The Keeper Exchange
by skullfarmer
Summary: An exchange program sends Hagrid to Springfield Elementary and Groundskeeper Willy to Hogwarts
1. Hagrid

THE KEEPER EXCHANGE  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters from HARRY POTTER. I suppose Matt  
  
Groening owns the characters from THE SIMPSONS...  
  
"They invade our space and we fall back. They assimilate entire   
  
worlds...and we fall back. The line must be drawn HERE. This far,   
  
NO further. And I will make them PAY FOR WHAT THEY'VE DONE!"  
  
-Patrick Stewart,STAR TREK: FIRST CONTACT  
  
1. HAGRID  
  
"-and so,the upcoming book-banning meeting has been postponed until  
  
the members of the committee actually read the books in question.   
  
Also,it has come to my attention-"  
  
"Booooooring..."   
  
Skinner scowled,surveying the unaccountably dead faces in the   
  
auditorium. Monday morning assembly tended to be like this. The   
  
only reason he didn't see Bart Simpson-believe you me,he was   
  
looking-was because Bart had slid out of his seat and was now   
  
sitting on the floor. Two seats away,Ralph held up his dust-covered  
  
fingers and said "The floor has leprosy!"  
  
"On a lighter note," Skinner continued,"I'd like to introduce you   
  
all to our guest. He came to us in an exchange program with a school  
  
in Europe called Hogwarts...I'd just like to introduce you all to   
  
Rubeus Hagrid..."  
  
"Whoa," Bart said,looking through the gap between the chairs. "Hey,  
  
Leese-"  
  
Lisa was awestruck. "He's a giant,Bart."  
  
"'Ello,kids," Hagrid said. He didn't need the microphone. "Nice ta   
  
be here."   
  
His accent made Lisa smile.  
  
He sat back down without making a speech-like HE needed to make a   
  
speech-and folded his hands in his lap.   
  
Class couldn't pass fast enough. Bart barely heard Mrs. Krabappel   
  
all day. When recess came,he dashed outside; there was no sign of   
  
the gigantic man anywhere-  
  
"Where is he,Bart?" Milhouse asked.  
  
"Dunno," Bart said.   
  
-but there was a new building,a big hut near the trees.   
  
"He's living here?"  
  
"You know he'll end up living at YOUR house," Nelson said. 


	2. Willy

2. WILLY  
  
Professor Dumbledore rapped his spoon against the glass a bit too  
  
hard. It shattered. He stared down at it,forlorn. But everyone in  
  
the hall had gone quiet by then. Beside him,Minerva's mouth   
  
twitched.  
  
If she laughs,I'll turn her into a frog,he thought.   
  
She contained herself quite well,though.  
  
He stood up.  
  
"As you all know," he said. "Care Of Magical Creatures has been  
  
cancelled until Hagrid comes back from our exchange program-"  
  
"We were going to study duppies," Harry said.   
  
"What's a duppy?" Ron asked,his mouth full of chicken.  
  
"Shh," Hermione whispered.  
  
"-and I would just like to ask all of you...is anyone aware as to  
  
the whereabouts of Willy?"  
  
No one said a word.   
  
Just then,Professor Flitwick ran into the Great Hall. Watching   
  
Flitwick run was rather surreal. "There's a deranged man outside  
  
and he's assaulting the Whomping Willow."  
  
At the left end of the table,Professor Sprout gasped.  
  
"Prefects,take the students back to their rooms,please..." 


	3. Visitors

3. VISITORS  
  
Hagrid had been wondering if he would make any friends during his   
  
stay in Springfield,even if they were muggles. As he sat there in   
  
the enormous chair,he hoped most of all that the kids would not be   
  
afraid of him. The very thought of these people being afraid of   
  
him-HIM!-brought tears to his eyes.   
  
Fang seemed to sense how sad he felt; the dog came and sat in  
  
Hagrid's lap. That made him feel a little better. He already missed  
  
the people he loved at Hogwarts,particularly Harry and Hermione   
  
and Dumbledore and Sprout and-  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"Hello?" a high voice called.  
  
Fang spilled out of his lap. Hagrid jumped out of the chair and   
  
went to the door. He opened it; there was a little girl on the   
  
other side.   
  
"Well,hey," Hagrid said,with his friendliest smile.  
  
"Hi,Mr. Hagrid," she said.   
  
"Aw,please jus' call me Hagrid."  
  
"Well...okay. I'm Lisa."  
  
"Lisa Simpson?"  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
"Skinner told me about yeh."  
  
"He did?"  
  
"He did. Please,come in. Would yeh care fer some tea?"  
  
"Oh,I'd love some."  
  
Lisa stepped into the hut. She saw the huge dog near the chair.   
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Fang," Hagrid said. "Don't worry,he's harmless."  
  
"I'm not scared," she said.  
  
Hagrid laughed. "I don't mean ta laugh," he said.  
  
"I don't mind," Lisa said.  
  
"Yeh just remind me of someone. A dear friend of mine. Yer like   
  
her-she's the best student at Hogwarts."  
  
Lisa's smile lit up the hut.  
  
Then there was another knock.   
  
"Anybody in there? C'mon,Lisa,I saw you go in-"  
  
Lisa's smile turned into a frown.  
  
"Oh,great."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"My BROTHER."  
  
"Oh," Hagrid said. "Bart."  
  
Lisa looked up at him,wide-eyed.  
  
"Skinner told me about HIM,too." 


	4. Sprout

4. SPROUT  
  
Albus learned something about Adrianna (Addie to her friends)   
  
Sprout that he had not known previously; she could run quite fast.   
  
Normally,Professor Sprout was friendly,kind,a gentle woman whose   
  
knowledge of plants fell second to none. Her students liked her,  
  
and even Snape respected her. She gave Hufflepuff a certain   
  
dignity. Sometimes,she filled the greenhouses with Bach and Handel,  
  
but had also been known to make the windows vibrate with Acid Bath   
  
and Terrorizer.   
  
However,beneath the kindness,there was a woman on fire. When she   
  
was challenged,she challenged right back. When Cedric Diggory had  
  
been murdered,she made sure grief counseling was available; she   
  
ended up doing a lot of counseling herself. She was wonderful with  
  
the children, but was unable to have her own. She had been married  
  
once; she told Dumbledore things about her ex-husband that made his  
  
hair stand on end and also made him angry. He suspected she had   
  
told Hagrid these things,too. Sprout and Hagrid had been together   
  
for a while now. Dumbledore could not imagine a more perfect match.   
  
So,when she sprang out of her seat and ran out of the Great Hall,  
  
there was some applause,as well as cries of "Get him,Professor   
  
Sprout..." and the rest of the staff took off after her.  
  
As she ran to aid the Whomping Willow,she shouted "Stand down,you   
  
MANIAC-" at the man fighting with it. This was,apparently,Willy,  
  
the exchange from Springfield. Dumbledore could just make him out;   
  
he wore overalls over a gray shirt. It had been torn open,revealing  
  
solid muscle. He had very red and scraggly facial hair,except for   
  
the top of his head. His bleeding fists were very busy,and he was   
  
screaming "Auuuuugh! TAKE THAT,YA PANSY-" The rest of the sentence   
  
was unintelligible. The Whomping Willow delivered the equivalent of  
  
a punch to Willy's jaw. "Agh," Willy yelled. He staggered a bit,but  
  
then jumped right back into the maelstrom of limbs.  
  
Dumbledore grabbed one of his legs; he dragged him away from the   
  
tree,dodging and blocking the kicks Willy aimed at him. "A little  
  
help,please?" he asked. Severus caught Willy's leg on its next  
  
convulsion and they dragged him away. For a moment,he resisted,  
  
digging into the grass with his fingers,screaming and cursing   
  
incoherently-until he saw the way Sprout was looking at him.  
  
She watched them drag him into the castle.  
  
Sprout considered the tree.  
  
"Time to break out the bandages," she said.  
  
"Do you need help,Professor?"  
  
Hermione Granger,the dear girl,stood nearby.   
  
Professor Sprout sighed. "I can handle this,Miss Granger."  
  
"All right."  
  
She turned to leave. Then she stopped.  
  
"Do you miss Hagrid yet,Professor?"  
  
Sprout closed her eyes and offered a wordless nod.  
  
"So do I," Hermione said.   
  
Sprout watched her go back into the castle.  
  
A wind kicked up,blowing through her hair. Sprout watched the   
  
willow's limbs twitch in the breeze,stark against the gray,swollen  
  
sky. She knew it was watching her just as warily. 


	5. Marge And Maggie

5. MARGE AND MAGGIE  
  
"Classes end early here," Hagrid said.   
  
The sky was clear and blue,bereft of clouds.   
  
"What's it like at Hogwarts?" Lisa asked.  
  
"Well,Lisa,Hogwarts is a huge bloody castle. We have a lake,  
  
complete with a giant squid. E's friendly,though..."  
  
This was better than he had expected. Hagrid already had two   
  
friends. Bart and Lisa had agreed to show him around Springfield.   
  
Walking them home was part of it. It was a rare day when Bart   
  
didn't have to write something like PASTE IS NOT THE CURE-ALL on   
  
the blackboard.  
  
As they led him down the quiet streets,he told them about the   
  
Forbidden Forest and how he loved dragons-  
  
"Dragons? Cool." Bart said.  
  
He looked over at Lisa. She looked to be deep in thought.  
  
"Somethin' wrong,Lisa?"  
  
"It's just that all these things...I've been told they're not real.  
  
To you,they're regular sights."  
  
"But no less amazin'."  
  
"So can you do magic?" Bart asked.  
  
"Not here," Hagrid said.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Against our rules."  
  
"Rules? What rules?"  
  
"We're real careful not to expose regular people to magic."  
  
"But you-how old are you?"   
  
"How old would ye say I am?"  
  
"I dunno," Bart said.   
  
Lisa looked downcast. "Many afflicted with gigantism die rather   
  
young-"  
  
"I'm seventy. And what d'ye mean 'afflicted',Lisa?"  
  
She looked sad for a moment. "Just that most people who grow to be   
  
eight feet tall or more usually do so because of some   
  
cerebrovascular disease or a number of other abnormalities-"  
  
"There's nothin' abnormal about me. I'm a natural born half-giant."  
  
"What's the half that's not a giant?" Bart asked.  
  
"Dad was a wizard."  
  
"Your mom was a giant?"  
  
"Giantess,Bart," Lisa said.  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
"I'm the Care Of Magical Creatures teacher," Hagrid said. "Professor  
  
Dumbledore-great man,Dumbledore-put me onto the job."  
  
"I spoke to him over the phone," Lisa said,smiling at the memory.   
  
"Principal Skinner had to leave the room and told me to fill in.   
  
Headmaster Dumbledore was so nice. He said he didn't often use  
  
telephones and it was an honor speaking with the finest student  
  
in the school. Skinner didn't tell him anything about me."  
  
"He described yeh perfectly,too." Hagrid said.  
  
"He did? While we were talking,I started getting mental pictures   
  
of a distinguished,elderly man with long,silky silver hair and a   
  
beard-"  
  
"That's him."  
  
"Wow," Lisa said.  
  
Hagrid chuckled. "Professor Dumbledore is brilliant. A dear friend   
  
a' mine...I thought it'd be a hard week,not seein' the usual   
  
faces..."  
  
They turned onto a street called Evergreen Terrace.  
  
"We live just up the street," Bart said.  
  
They walked the distance in silence.  
  
Lisa reached for the doorknob.  
  
The door flew open,revealing Mrs. Simpson. Hagrid couldn't take   
  
his eyes off of her hair. It was so...blue. And so...tall.  
  
"Hey,Mom." Bart said.  
  
"Mom?" said Lisa, "This is Hagrid."  
  
"Ma'am," Hagrid said.  
  
"Oh," Marge said. "Well...welcome to Springfield. Please,come in."  
  
Hagrid had to turn sideways and duck to fit through the front door.  
  
"Would you like something to eat?" she asked.   
  
"Nah," Hagrid said,following her into the kitchen. "I'm not hungry,  
  
Mrs. Simpson."  
  
"Marge," she said,extending her hand.   
  
"Hagrid," he said. He kissed her hand.  
  
"Hagrid..." she thought for a moment. "First name?"  
  
"Last. Rubeus Hagrid."  
  
"I see. That's Irish,isn't it?"  
  
"Scottish,Irish,Slovak,Bohemian and English. Maybe a bit of German."  
  
He noticed the baby,sitting in the high chair by the table.  
  
"And who's this?"  
  
"That's Maggie,our youngest."  
  
Hagrid knelt down in front of the chair. "'Ello,Maggie."   
  
He could have sworn he saw a smile behind the pacifier.  
  
Lisa and Bart stared in amazement; Hagrid was holding Snowball II   
  
in his huge arms, and the cat was actually purring. "She never does  
  
that," Lisa said.  
  
"She's a beautiful cat," Hagrid said. "What's 'er name?"  
  
"Snowball Two."  
  
"Is there a Snowball One?"  
  
Lisa looked at the table. Just thinking about Snowball made her sad.  
  
"Sorry," Hagrid said.  
  
"That's all right," Lisa said.  
  
"It's dead heartbreakin' when they leave yeh."  
  
Now he looked sad.  
  
"Santa's Little Helper is around here somewhere," Bart said.  
  
"'Nother cat?"  
  
"No,a dog."  
  
"A cat AND a dog?"  
  
"They co-exist."   
  
Hagrid grinned at Lisa.  
  
"I owned an elephant once."  
  
Hagrid opened his mouth to say something. "Lost the thought," he   
  
said. "Sorry."  
  
"There are deer around here," Lisa said. "In the woods."  
  
"Can yeh show me the woods?"  
  
"Sure," Lisa said. "I'm glad you came here,Hagrid."  
  
"So am I," Hagrid said. "I'm a bit homesick,but I'm glad."  
  
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Bart asked.  
  
"I do. How about yerself?"  
  
"Nah. What's her name?"  
  
"Adrianna."  
  
"That's a beautiful name," Lisa said. "Is she a teacher?"  
  
"She teaches Herbology. Professor Sprout is her title. Sometimes  
  
Madame Sprout."  
  
Mrs. Simpson came in from the kitchen. "Would you like to stay for  
  
dinner,Hagrid?"  
  
"Uh...well,I-"  
  
"Please stay,Hagrid," Lisa said.  
  
"Well,okay..."  
  
A car pulled into the driveway.  
  
"Homer's here," said Bart. 


	6. Poppy

6. POPPY  
  
Lucius had given up struggling, having been buried standing up. His head protruded from the ground and the rest of his body was tightly  
  
packed in dirt. The grass tickled his face,and he kept sneezing.  
  
The new groundskeeper kept laughing as he drew near with that  
  
lawnmower; he had seen what those blades could do to human flesh  
  
and it wasn't pleasant. He hadn't felt this much panic since   
  
Sirius Black had turned his ass into a Portkey. "Look," he yelled,  
  
"Can we talk about-"  
  
I seem to be getting ahead of myself.  
  
Okay,here we go:  
  
"Put up yer dukes,ya decrepit limey cahghswolla."  
  
Voldemort raised his eyebrows. He'd understood "decrepit" and  
  
"limey" but the last word was lost forever in Willy's thick accent.  
  
"Fine." He put his wand away. "If you're jonesing for a donnybrook,  
  
a donnybrook we shall have."  
  
With that,he put up his fists.  
  
-what do I have to tell you people about REWINDING the TAPES? All  
  
right,I think this is the right spot...  
  
Willy woke up and groaned. He could just discern a strange taste   
  
in his throat. "Gaagh," he said.  
  
"I see you're awake."  
  
He looked up. The nurse stood at the head of the bed. "Headache?"  
  
she asked.   
  
"Get away,woman," said Willy. "Me,'ead feels just feyne."  
  
"Ah,I see. So your little wrestling match with the Whomping Willow  
  
was just for giggles,was it?"  
  
"I've 'ad worse," Willy said,smiling. "Got boned in me 'ead with  
  
a crowbar,last soccer riot I was at."  
  
"How lovely," she said. Then she looked towards the door. "Ah.  
  
Headmaster. Come right in."  
  
"Thank you,Poppy."  
  
He led Poppy towards a window.  
  
"He just woke up," she said. "He's got a bad taste in his mouth   
  
from the sleeping draught. Other than that,he's perfectly all   
  
right. I'll have to let him go."  
  
"That's fine,Poppy. You did what you could." Albus put a comforting  
  
hand on her shoulder. "Just discharge him if he wants to go."  
  
She met his deep eyes. "Are you sure?"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. His smile warmed her.  
  
"How much damage can he do?" he asked. 


	7. Homer

7. HOMER  
  
"They SAID you were big," Homer said. He sat down,as if he were  
  
afraid Hagrid might eat him. Someone would have to be pretty   
  
hungry to eat Homer Simpson.  
  
Hagrid put down the chicken thigh. He chewed for a moment,swallowed,  
  
and asked "Who said?"  
  
"There was a meeting," Marge said. "Teachers and parents. Wasn't   
  
there one at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Oh. Nah,that would be chaos. See...there are wizard families who   
  
don't get on with each other."  
  
"Why not?" Lisa asked.  
  
"It's jus' that not everyone from wizardin' families can do magic.  
  
Some look down on 'em. Call 'em 'mudbloods.' It's a real bad insult.  
  
I'm not one of 'em. I told yeh abou' Hermione,Lisa?"  
  
"Who's Hermione?" Marge asked.  
  
"Hermione Granger. Best student at Hogwarts. Very special friend o'  
  
mine. Her parents are Muggles-nonmagic folks-and some of the   
  
students hate her for it."  
  
"That's terrible," Marge said.  
  
Hagrid chuckled. The table vibrated. "Ah...she usually doesn't let   
  
it bother her. She's a tough one,Hermione. Real pretty, always good  
  
company." He smiled. "I love her."  
  
"Could I write her a letter?" Lisa asked.  
  
"I'll give it to 'er myself."  
  
Lisa grinned.  
  
"Skinner mentioned you were in prison?" Marge asked.  
  
"Big deal," Homer said. "How many times have I been in jail?"  
  
"I stopped counting after the sixth time," Bart said.  
  
"See?" Homer asked.   
  
"It was for somethin' I didn't do. Doesn't matter anymore,I was   
  
proven innocent."   
  
Maggie grabbed one of his fingers. She could barely get her arms  
  
around it. He lifted her out of the chair,and she gurgled with  
  
delight.  
  
"Hermione again?"  
  
"Well,in this case...that's a girl,Maggie...Hermione helped all she  
  
could. See,there was a basilisk petrifyin' people and Hermione was   
  
one of 'em."  
  
"Is she okay now?" Lisa asked.  
  
"Oh,yeah,she's great. It was Harry stopped the basilisk."  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Harry Potter. He's famous in our world. I know he wishes he wasn't.  
  
I wouldn' love him any less if he weren't. But he is."  
  
"What did he do?" Bart asked.  
  
Hagrid leaned closer. "Bart, think of our world as an unseen world  
  
under yours. You don't see us 'cause we prefer it that way. I don't  
  
mind bein' here with you folks,let me say that now. There is evil  
  
in our world,same as yours. His name is..." he hesitated a moment.  
  
"His name is Voldemort. He's murdered a lot o' people. Including  
  
Harry's parents when he was a baby. He tried to kill Harry and  
  
the killspell went wrong and messed him up."  
  
Marge gasped.  
  
"He got me expelled from Hogwarts. Somebody died,and he framed me.  
  
'e wants to kill Harry. Harry's defeated 'im every time. That's  
  
why he's famous. He's known as the Boy Who Lived. I just call him  
  
Harry. He's the best wizard I know,besides Dumbledore." He looked  
  
at Homer. "Albus Dumbledore,the Headmaster."  
  
"I won't remember that in five minutes."  
  
"Good,'cause I probably shouldn'ta told yeh that..." 


	8. Moe

8. MOE  
  
"...the ITCHY and SCRATCHY Shooooooow!"  
  
The title of today's episode: THE BEST OF INTESTINES.  
  
Scratchy is looking at a sign that says STRONGMAN COMPETITION.  
  
He enters; the challenge involves moving a two-ton train engine.   
  
While he's warming up,Itchy attacks him with a fire ax and exposes  
  
his intestines to daylight. He wraps them around the train and   
  
as Scratchy runs, the train begins to move,eventually running him  
  
over; the judges give him first prize even though he's squashed flat  
  
into the train tracks.  
  
Bart and Lisa laughed like crazy.  
  
"That poor cat," Hagrid sobbed.  
  
They looked up at him.  
  
"It's not real," Bart said.   
  
"Haven't you ever seen TV?"  
  
"A bit," Hagrid said. "I've seen a few movies,too.Nothin' like that."  
  
"Sorry," Lisa said.  
  
Hagrid hugged her with one arm. "S'alright,Lisa.I just love animals."  
  
Homer walked into the room,jangling his car keys. "Going to Moe's," he said. "Wanna come,Hagrid?"  
  
Hagrid looked at him. There were still tears in his eyes.  
  
"First episode of ITCHY AND SCRATCHY,huh?" Homer asked.  
  
Hagrid nodded.  
  
Mrs. Simpson came in from the kitchen.   
  
"Marge,we'll be at Moe's."  
  
She gave Homer a strange look. Hagrid had seen it before. It was a   
  
look of displeased resignment. He couldn't help but wonder what   
  
kind of trouble Moe had in store for them.  
  
Hagrid slammed the pitcher of Duff down on the counter.  
  
"This is water," he said.  
  
Moe leaned over the counter. Hagrid swore he saw a bead of sweat break out on Moe's forehead. "Uh...If it was water,ya gotta watch it. It might be alive..."  
  
"Damn good water," Homer slurred. "No three-headed cows in this stuff."   
  
"I was warned to bring m'own water," Hagrid said. "I brought a few   
  
gallons for me and Fang."  
  
"How long ya here?" Moe asked.  
  
"Jus' a week."  
  
The guy sitting on his left looked like he had been born inebriated.  
  
Homer had called him Barney. "He's just a figment of my imagination,"   
  
Barney said,and burped.   
  
"So,uh,Hagrid-" Hagrid looked in the other direction. The quiet  
  
black man-Carl?-grinned at him,happily buzzed. "What do you drink?"  
  
"Tea,mostly. I used ta drink too much. Then I told someone special  
  
I'd never drink again. Nothin' wrong with an occasional nip,though.  
  
Warms you up. I prefer firewhiskey. Brandy,though that's to  
  
drink with friends."   
  
"If you can't drink your friends,who can you drink?" Homer asked.  
  
He slapped the other guy-Benny or Lenny-on the shoulder. Lenny   
  
had five o'clock shadow and a receding hairline. He doesn't look  
  
well,Hagrid thought. None of them do.  
  
Eventually,Homer passed out. He slumped forward,drooling onto the   
  
the surface of the bar.  
  
"He does this a lot?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Ah," Moe tilted his hand one way,then the other.  
  
"His family must really love him."  
  
"Oh yeah," Moe said. "Look,can you get him home?"  
  
"We walked here," Hagrid said. "I didn't fit in the car."  
  
Moe managed to twist his face into a smile. His bones creaked and  
  
ground against each other.  
  
"I'll hafta carry him," Hagrid said. 


	9. Stairs

9. STAIRS  
  
Minerva McGonagall stepped out of her office,deep in the book. It  
  
was a work of fiction titled SKIN,by a muggle named Kathe Koja. It  
  
had been recommended to her; so far,she was engrossed.  
  
She had been working for hours,grading assignments. Most of her  
  
students were doing well; she knew one day they'd be able to   
  
transfigure lizards into sponges, hopefully without vital organs.  
  
There were days when a bucket was her most useful tool.  
  
She was so involved in the book,she almost didn't notice the   
  
silence. When she reached the stairs,though,it became apparent.  
  
She ran all the way to Albus's office. "Chocolate-"  
  
The door opened. "Minerva?"  
  
"Albus-the-"  
  
"Breathe,Minerva,breathe..."  
  
He took deep breaths along with her.  
  
When she had calmed down,she said. "The stairs."  
  
"The stairs?"  
  
She led him to the railing.  
  
Every staircase in the castle had stopped moving.  
  
"How did this happen?"  
  
A moment passed.  
  
"Willie!" they exclaimed together.  
  
Then,Dumbledore pointed downwards.  
  
"Speak of the Devil."  
  
Willy-hands on hips,scowling-stood on a landing with two staircases  
  
on either side. They both terminated abruptly. The entire castle  
  
had been turned into a gigantic puzzle; teachers and students alike  
  
were trying to find their way. Fortunately,a few classes were still   
  
going on. "It's like being inside Terry Gilliam's nightmares,"   
  
Dumbledore said.   
  
"Who?" Minerva asked.  
  
"You know who he is,Minerva. MONTY PYTHON'S FLYING CIRCUS."  
  
Even if it was made by Muggles,there was not a wizard alive who  
  
didn't know about "Monty Python's Flying Circus." It was ingrained   
  
in European culture,much the same as DOCTOR WHO.  
  
"Oh,he's the one who drew everything."   
  
"Precisely."  
  
They leapt from staircase to staircase. In some instances,where the  
  
distance was too great to jump,they floated to the next available   
  
staircase,dancing through the air.   
  
Willy stood on a staircase below them.  
  
"Looks a bit like a Gumby," McGonagall said,not quite out loud.  
  
"Willy," Dumbledore called. "Professor McGonagall and I were   
  
wondering if you caused this to happen."  
  
"Aye,Headmaster. I yelled at 'em."  
  
"You...yelled at the stairs?"  
  
Minerva muttered something Dumbledore didn't quite hear.  
  
"Aye. I yelled at 'em to stop movin' and they did. Then the rest of  
  
'em followed."  
  
"I think he hurt their feelings," Dumbledore told Minerva.  
  
Minerva cast her eyes at the ceiling.  
  
"May I suggest an apology,Willy?"  
  
"Well...aye." He hesitated a moment. Then he said "Ah'm sorry."  
  
He said it loudly; after all,he was apologizing to the castle itself.  
  
The stairs didn't budge.  
  
"Keep going," Dumbledore said,urging him on.  
  
"I'll never yell at you again...and I take back what I said?"  
  
With a great,booming creak,the staircases came to life. Willy moved  
  
downwards; Dumbledore steadied himself as their staircase floated   
  
upwards,interlocking with another staircase waiting above. Minerva  
  
leaned against the railing,propped up by her elbows. She had worn the  
  
green tartan dress today; Dumbledore thought she looked stunning.   
  
Then again,she always looks that way, he thought,and found himself  
  
blushing as well as tumescent.  
  
"I wonder," Dumbledore said. "Was this exchange program a good idea?"  
  
"You say that as if it were your idea."  
  
"I agreed to it."  
  
"It's only Monday," Minerva said. "Cheer up,Albus." She placed her   
  
hand in his and gently squeezed.  
  
He looked down at her with his gentlest smile.  
  
"I must be difficult,sometimes."  
  
"I thrive on it. Your companionship makes my life more interesting."  
  
"Is that what you want?"  
  
"It's a bit late to turn back."  
  
Her grip tightened.  
  
"You know I'd follow you anywhere," she said.  
  
He slid his arm around her shoulder.  
  
The castle whispered all around them.  
  
Willie found himself in what he guessed was the basement. He was   
  
used to the basement at Springfield Elementary,playing his bagpipes  
  
by the warmth of the furnace after everyone went home. It was cold down here,though,and too big to be a normal basement. Down here,there  
  
were interconnected catacombs. The walls were dark and dank and   
  
weird fungal things were growing on them. "Euuugh," he said.  
  
A shadow passed over the wall.  
  
Willy recognized the man; he had helped pull Willy away from the tree earlier. He looked at home down here,as pale as he was. He was   
  
dressed in jet black,from head to toe; his greasy hair-hanging in  
  
his face-was the same color. He needs a woman,Willy thought.  
  
"Willy,is it?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Severus Snape. Potions master."  
  
Snape did not offer his hand.   
  
"A word of advice," he said.  
  
"Eh," Willy said.  
  
"Did you meet the man who traded places with you?"  
  
"Nah,I sure didn't."  
  
"His name is Hagrid. I don't make friends easily,but I like Hagrid.  
  
I've smiled exactly five times in my time here at Hogwarts. Three  
  
of those smiles were caused by Hagrid. He makes me want to rise above what I've become. He is one of the very best men I have ever known. His absence is already being felt,particularly by me. To shorten what could be an interminably long monologue,I'll make the message simple," He thrust his face an inch away from Willy's. "Don't. Make. Me. Hate. You."  
  
All Willy could do was nod.  
  
"The stairs are back that way," Snape said.  
  
Willy left him standing in the shadows. 


	10. Frink

11. FRINK  
  
"Put me down," Homer moaned.  
  
"Nope," Hagrid said. "Yer too plastered to walk."  
  
It was a lovely night,really. The night air might clear Homer's   
  
head.  
  
"I'm not drunk," Homer slurred.  
  
"Yer absolutely shitfaced," Hagrid said. "And yer breath's makin'   
  
me dizzy,too. Turn the other way when you breathe,will yeh?"  
  
Homer was not the first or the heaviest person Hagrid had carried  
  
home. He supposed his family would know what to do with him. He  
  
had carried him a long distance; so far,they had not encountered  
  
anyone else.   
  
The first person Hagrid saw was standing in the middle of an empty  
  
intersection. He was a funny little man in a tattered green coat,  
  
bowtie and glasses,accompanied by a white shirt and purple pants.   
  
He seemed to be setting up some kind of machine right there in the   
  
street.  
  
He saw Hagrid watching. He made some bizarre throat noises and  
  
then motioned for Hagrid to come on over.   
  
With Homer in tow,Hagrid stepped into the street.  
  
""Okaay,this," Homer said,"This,Hagrid,this is Professor Frink."  
  
"You're undoubtedly the giant guy from Europe," Professor Frink   
  
said.   
  
"Pleased to meet yeh," Hagrid said. He shook Frink's hand. "Hagrid."  
  
"Frink. Professor John Frink...you're just in time to bear witness  
  
to my latest cerebral confabulation."  
  
"Well,I gotta get Homer back ta his family,Professor."  
  
"Don't worry about Homer. The man's indestructible, with the   
  
impossible,bottomless stomach and the fire-resistant tongue and the  
  
stainless steel entrails of a killer eating machine..." He sort of   
  
sang the last three words.  
  
"Well," Hagrid said. "I'm sure yer latest idea's brilliant. Maybe  
  
yeh could demonstrate it later?"  
  
"If it doesn't punch a hole in the universe and send us all   
  
screaming into nothingness...I'll show it to you later."  
  
Hagrid nodded. They left Professor Frink there,in the middle of   
  
the street. He continued to fiddle with the contraption,until,  
  
finally,he knew that it was ready. He put on his goggles. Then,with  
  
a flourish,he activated his latest baby. A pulse of greenish light   
  
streaked towards the infinite night sky. Frink waited,all his   
  
fingers crossed.   
  
Something inside the machine blew up. "No," Frink moaned. The   
  
light fell away from the sky; it fragmented into many different   
  
beams as it fell over the street,revealing several people,who,up   
  
until then,had been invisible. Professor Frink glavened when he  
  
saw them,because they had seen him first. 


	11. Lee

11. LEE  
  
JK Rowling owns these characters. "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap"   
  
belongs to AC/DC and "Solitaire/Unraveling" is the property of   
  
Mushroomhead.  
  
"Hey,Harry," Lee called.  
  
Harry didn't turn from the fire. Of course,he was sitting down.   
  
"What is it,Lee?"  
  
"Didn't you do an essay on Aleister Crowley a while ago?"  
  
Everyone knew Lee's voice would make him famous someday.  
  
"Yeah. A while ago."  
  
"I'm doing a research project on the various ways dark wizards have  
  
died...do you recall how Crowley died? I'm almost finished and I  
  
feel like I can write right now."  
  
"I think he was homeless and insane...I don't remember   
  
how he got that way. Is it for Binns?"  
  
"History Of Magic,yeah."  
  
"Mmm...you can't make something up,then."  
  
Lee grinned. "With some of the things that happened to these   
  
people,no one would know the difference."  
  
"I just hope I don't end up like that," Harry said.  
  
"You? No way,Harry. We'd never let that happen. Me, Seamus, Dean,  
  
Ron, Hermione...all of us. Dumbledore. Hagrid. Most of the   
  
teachers. Not Snape,but who cares about Snape? We believe in you."  
  
"Well...thanks."  
  
"You're welcome. I always figured I said enough during Quidditch."  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Eleven o'clock."  
  
"I'll just sit here a moment more," he said.  
  
He was asleep in five minutes.  
  
Lee managed to write a few words. Then he was siezed with an  
  
overwhelming urge. He put down the quill and the parchment,and   
  
walked over to Harry,asleep in the chair. His eyelids were   
  
twitching.  
  
"He's already in REM sleep," Lee said.   
  
Lee pressed his palms against the top of Harry's head.  
  
("-DEEDS AND THEY'RE DONE DIRT CHEAP...")  
  
("Turn that down.")  
  
(The passenger turned the volume down. As he did,the black shape  
  
burnt into his forearm was revealed. They couldn't see his face.)  
  
("What's wrong,you don't like this band?")  
  
(The dark-cloaked figure in the driver's seat did not answer. He   
  
wore a dark cap that hid his eyes. He went back to watching the   
  
house.  
  
("How long has he been in there?")  
  
("At least twenty minutes,Warren.")  
  
(He slipped another CD in the player. This music was different;  
  
dark and carnivean.)  
  
("Bidin' my time...")  
  
Back in the common room,Harry murmured "Warren," and Lee felt his  
  
knees buckle. He managed to hold on.  
  
("Simpson was pretty drunk.")  
  
("No more than usual.")  
  
"Homer Simpson," Harry and Lee whispered together.  
  
("...until I'm strong enough...")  
  
(The driver began to open the door-)  
  
(-and then the front door of the house they were watching opened.)  
  
("Well,g'night..." Hagrid said to the blue-haired woman.   
  
("G'night,Hagrid. I'll send a sandwich with Bart or Lisa tomorrow.")  
  
("Aw...yeh don't have to,really.")  
  
("No,no,it's my pleasure." She smiled.)  
  
("Yer sure Homer's all righ'?"  
  
("He's fine." She smiled. "Thank you for keeping him safe.")  
  
("Yer welcome," Hagrid said. "See yeh,Marge. G'night.")  
  
(Marge watched him walk down the street,until he disappeared.)  
  
(Literally,he just disappeared.)  
  
("Have you ever been inside of THE NEW MASTERPIECE...")  
  
("Shall we do her now?" the passenger asked.)  
  
("No one touches her," the driver said. "She and the child have   
  
formed a bond.")  
  
("Replacing Potter can't be that easy. Dumbledore-")  
  
Lee crashed to the floor.  
  
He sprang up,indecisive for a moment.  
  
"Dumbledore," he decided.  
  
He ran for the portrait; when he was through,he turned,and   
  
walked straight into a solid object. He found himself on the  
  
floor again.  
  
"Good evening,Mr. Jordan," Professor Dumbledore said.  
  
"Headmaster. I was going to your office."  
  
"I've been right here. Sir Lemorne was expecting Sir Cadogan hours   
  
ago. I've been waiting for him,but no one knows where he's gone.   
  
Is there a problem?"  
  
"It's Harry,sir. I-"  
  
He stopped,looking quite guilty.  
  
"I thought he was dreaming and I was curious. I know I've been  
  
warned not to,but I couldn't help myself."  
  
"Well,that's right,you have been warned about that. Another  
  
person's dreams can be quite personal. But you know that."  
  
"Anyway,I don't think it was a dream. It was a vision. Hagrid  
  
was in it and there was this woman with blue hair and these guys  
  
in a car and they mentioned your name-"  
  
"Mr. Jordan, you've used a pensieve,have you not?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," he said. "You've seen my record,right?"  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I certainly have. Come with me."  
  
He followed Dumbledore to his office. It wasn't exactly his   
  
first visit. Before he knew it, he was inside.  
  
"I have a spare pensieve," Dumbledore said. "Would you like to  
  
extract the vision,or shall I do it?"  
  
"No...I'll do it. I've done it before."  
  
Before Hogwarts,Lee had been a basket case. His family wasn't the  
  
least bit psychic. Lee found out that he could jump into other people's   
  
dreams,kind of like that stupid movie about the burnt guy with the  
  
finger knives. It got to where he had waking nightmares featuring   
  
indescribably horrific monsters from everyone sleeping in the   
  
vicinity,unable to tune anything out. He couldn't go to school-  
  
the headmaster there was everything Dumbledore wasn't-an arrogant,  
  
delusional racist. Dumbledore wouldn't care if he were bright green.  
  
He could live a normal life now,whatever that was.  
  
"I have no idea what normal is."  
  
Dumbledore heard him.  
  
"Normal is whatever you decide it should be."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Yes,Lee?"  
  
"Thanks for giving me a chance."  
  
"You've come a long way, Mr. Jordan. But for now,your mind must be   
  
unfettered. Clear away all the doubts-" Lee closed his eyes;   
  
Dumbledore's voice was all there was "-all the uncertainty-" Lee   
  
fished his wand out of his pocket-"and concentrate."  
  
Lee put the wand to his head; he felt something pulling away  
  
from him-"Got it." he said.  
  
He spilled it into the pensieve. It swirled around and around.  
  
"I'll be right back," Dumbledore said. Then he stuck his head   
  
in the bowl.  
  
It didn't take that long.  
  
Dumbledore pulled his head out of the pensieve.  
  
"That didn't make any sense at all," he said. "Why would I want to  
  
replace Harry?"  
  
"And how does that lady get her hair to stay up like that?"  
  
"Mr. Jordan,you have been a great help. I'll walk you back to  
  
the tower."  
  
The way back to Gryffindor Tower was quick; they didn't run in  
  
to any ghosts or other students on the prowl. It was just a quiet  
  
night.  
  
He followed Lee into the common room. Harry was still there,  
  
in the chair,squirming in his sleep.   
  
"I don't think it's safe in in there right now," Lee said."Good   
  
night,Headmaster."   
  
"Good night,Mr. Jordan."  
  
Lee Jordan went up to bed.  
  
Dumbledore knelt down next to the chair.  
  
Harry had grown. He filled the chair,in the glow from the   
  
fireplace.His fists were clenched. His jaw was set. His cheeks were  
  
wet.  
  
Even in sleep,he couldn't find peace.  
  
Dumbledore brushed a lock of hair out of Harry's eyes.   
  
"Mmph," Harry whimpered,trembling.  
  
"Shhh..."  
  
Harry settled down. Dumbledore sat with him awhile; when he  
  
left, Harry was not dreaming. 


	12. Harry

13. HARRY  
  
TUESDAY  
  
At breakfast, Hedwig soared into the Great Hall and landed in  
  
front of Harry with her usual grace. She dropped a letter in front   
  
of him."Morning,Hedwig," he said,scratching her head. She gave his   
  
fingers a friendly nip,and did the same to Hermione and Ron when   
  
they stroked her feathers. Harry fed her a bit of toast. She ate   
  
it. "Craaawk," she said,content. She pushed the letter towards   
  
Harry.  
  
He opened it.  
  
HARRY:  
  
Please come to my office after breakfast. Your assistance would be   
  
greatly appreciated. The password is "Chocolate covered almonds."  
  
-ALBUS DUMBLEDORE   
  
"I'll see you guys later."  
  
He had already told Ron and Hermione about the dream.  
  
"Maybe we should go,too," Ron said,his mouth full of food.  
  
"Keep chewing," Hermione said. "Go,Harry. We understand."  
  
"Thanks,'Mione."  
  
He excused himself from the table,and exited the hall.  
  
Harry wandered over to Dumbledore's office.  
  
When he got there,he was surprised to see the groundskeeper from  
  
Springfield lurking around in the hallway with a broom.  
  
"Hi," Harry said. "I'm Harry. You must be Willy."  
  
"Aye,Willy's m'name. Are ya a magic lad?"  
  
"Everyone here is," Harry said. "Didn't they tell you that?"  
  
"Ach. Blasted Skinner left lotsa things to me imagination."  
  
"Skinner's the headmaster in Springfield? Wait,that's America. You  
  
call him the principal rather than the headmaster,right?"  
  
"Yer a bright lad,Harry. Now 'scuse me. Gotta sweep."  
  
"I'm here to see the headmaster," Harry said.  
  
"I saw me 'eadmaster a lot when I was a wee lad."  
  
With that,he swept away down the hall.  
  
Harry,suddenly alone,said "Chocolate covered almonds."  
  
The gargoyle moved.  
  
Harry pushed the door open.  
  
For a moment,he stood on the threshold; he didn't feel worthy  
  
enough to enter. He had wrecked this place last time he'd been  
  
here. He had screamed at Professor Dumbledore and called him an  
  
old fool and-  
  
"Ah,there you are,Harry. Please,come in. Did you have a good   
  
breakfast?"  
  
Professor Dumbledore was at his desk,quill in hand.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said.   
  
Harry stepped into the room. Several of the portraits vacated   
  
their canvases. Fawkes, though, looked happy to see him.  
  
"Excellent. Then,I will cut to the chase-"  
  
"Sir-"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I just...I never apologized. I owe you a huge apology."  
  
"You owe me nothing,Harry."  
  
"But-but I said things that-you opened yourself up to me and I  
  
tore you apart-I tore this place apart. I made you cry."  
  
"I deserved every bit of it."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to speak and couldn't.  
  
"Are you angry at me?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"What? No. No way. Never. I was...angry,but...please,   
  
I didn't mean to hurt you-"  
  
"I owe you everything. And you owe me nothing."  
  
"...you're quoting THE X FILES?"  
  
"Am I?"  
  
"The film. Mulder tells Scully 'I owe you everything-"  
  
"-'and you owe me nothing.' Hmm,that's right. Harry, after   
  
you left, what do you suppose I did?"  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"I finished what you started. I completely trashed this place.   
  
Fawkes assisted me-" From across the room,Fawkes chirped-"and   
  
realized there were things in here that weren't important anymore.  
  
Useless stuff that I disposed of immediately. Harry, I would never  
  
think of spiting you or hating you. I would never hurt you."  
  
For a moment,there was silence.  
  
"Please,sit down."  
  
Harry did.   
  
"Is this a new chair?"  
  
"Do you like it?"  
  
"It's...yeah,I do."  
  
"Now. Based on some information I recieved last night,I have   
  
decided to Apparate to Springfield."  
  
"I dreamed about Springfield last night."  
  
"Yes, I know. Lee Jordan and I tried to analyze your vision."  
  
"Yeah, I saw Lee in there..."  
  
"I destroyed the pensieve we used,in respect for your privacy."  
  
"Thank you,sir,but that's not what's important right now. I think   
  
Hagrid's in danger-"  
  
"I share your belief. I'm confident in Hagrid's ability to   
  
look after himself,but I'm leaving nothing to chance."  
  
"There was that woman with the blue hair..."  
  
"Yes, that was Marge Simpson."  
  
"How do you know her?"  
  
"I spoke to her daughter Lisa before the exchange."  
  
"And...there was that other part...they mentioned replacing me."  
  
"No one could possibly replace you,Harry."  
  
"Then what did they mean?"  
  
"I don't know," Dumbledore said. "Harry...you're the only one who   
  
knows what the men in the car look like now that the pensieve is   
  
gone. I would appreciate it if you'd accompany me to Springfield."  
  
"I don't know how much help I'd be,I didn't see much of them. But  
  
I could recognize their voices,I guess."  
  
"That will be just fine."  
  
"When do we go?"  
  
"Now."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Now."  
  
"All right," Harry said. A look of concern flashed across  
  
his face. "I don't know how to Apparate yet."  
  
"Not to worry. I'll make a portkey."  
  
He made one right there on the spot, out of a piece of parchment.   
  
Dumbledore handed him one end and held onto the other.  
  
In a moment,the office was empty. 


	13. Springfield

14. SPRINGFIELD  
  
Hagrid woke up,his face deep in the pillows. He'd heard a joke   
  
once,about a man who'd dreamed about eating a gigantic marshmallow  
  
and awoke to find his pillow gone. He lifted his head,and grunted;  
  
he was twisted in the warm sheets. As he turned over,he saw an  
  
unmistakable figure sitting on the floor,playing with Fang.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore?" he mumbled.  
  
"Good morning,Hagrid."   
  
Hagrid sat up and covered his lap with the comforter; he was a   
  
modest man,but it wasn't as if Dumbledore had never seen Hagrid   
  
au naturale.   
  
He was uncovered from the waist up; thick,dark hair ran all the way  
  
down his chest and stomach muscles,disappearing under the comforter,  
  
reappearing down his legs.  
  
"Not that I'm not glad ta see yeh,Professor Dumbledore,sir...but   
  
shouldn't yeh be at Hogwarts?"  
  
"I have reason to believe you may be in danger,Hagrid."  
  
"Danger? Nah. Met the nicest family las' night-remember Lisa   
  
Simpson?"  
  
"I do," Albus said,remembering the adorable little girl. "I know  
  
about the Simpsons,Hagrid. But there may be treachery afoot."  
  
"Why d'yeh think that?"  
  
"Harry had a vision. You know about Harry's visions,I suppose."  
  
"What did he see?"  
  
"That you're being watched."  
  
"Who'd wanna watch me?"  
  
"That is what we hope to ascertain."  
  
"Harry's here,too?"  
  
"Indeed he is. We brought you some breakfast."  
  
"I'll get dressed."  
  
Dumbledore nodded; he scratched Fang's ears,then went outside.  
  
Dawn had arisen mere moments ago; the sun had yet to appear.   
  
Harry was sitting in a swing,gazing at the deep, dark blue sky.  
  
Nature at its most ethereal.  
  
The school was dark,and empty.  
  
"He's fine," Dumbledore told him.  
  
Harry nodded,looking satisfied.   
  
"Would you like a push?"  
  
"Yes,please."  
  
Dumbledore took hold of the chains suspending the swing. He gave   
  
Harry a gentle but thorough push. In moments,Harry was swinging  
  
through the air...and laughing. "I've never done this before," he   
  
said."You should try this,Professor,it's wonderful."  
  
"All right," Dumbledore said. "Although I'm no stranger to swings.   
  
It has been quite a long time,though." He lowered himself onto the   
  
swing beside Harry,and then pushed off the ground with his feet.   
  
This is how Hagrid found them when he came out.   
  
"I'd join yeh," Hagrid said,"I'd jus' break the thing,though."  
  
"Hagrid," Harry exclaimed. He ground his feet in the grass,leapt   
  
out of the swing,and ran into Hagrid's loving,tight embrace.  
  
"Couldn't imagine a week without yeh," Hagrid said. 


	14. The Grey Lady

15. THE GREY LADY  
  
Characters herein belong to J.K. Rowling and Matt Groening  
  
Willy opened the doors of the Great Hall. The room was mostly   
  
empty; he walked into the huge,grand room,the mop and bucket in   
  
tow. It squeaked as he pulled it along. As he did,a woman floated   
  
through the bucket of water,having first passed through the floor.   
  
Willy glanced at her,not caring that she was a ghost. She had   
  
neither been young nor old,though her hair was grey.  
  
She floated in Willy's wake; she didn't talk,she only watched him.  
  
Then someone said,"I see you've attracted the Grey Lady."  
  
There was no one in front of him. He looked back,but saw no one  
  
behind the woman. When he turned back,a tiny man was clambering   
  
onto one of the tables. He wore dark robes,and tiny shoes that   
  
would have fit a baby. He grinned at Willy. "Professor Filius   
  
Flitwick," he said,extending his tiny hand.  
  
"Glad ta meet ya," Willy said,shaking Flitwick's hand.   
  
"You've caused quite a stir,so far," he said. His voice was kind of  
  
squeaky,but not annoyingly so.  
  
Willy sat down at the table. "Ah dinna mean to disrupt anythin'."  
  
"No permanent harm done," Flitwick said. "You'll be fine."  
  
The Grey Lady smiled at Willy.   
  
"Dontcha talk?"   
  
She shook her head. Then she opened her mouth and showed Willy why.  
  
"Gaaaaah." He turned to Flitwick. "What happened to her?"  
  
"Somebody pulled out her tongue with a meathook," said Flitwick.   
  
Willy looked back at the ghost.  
  
"You tell him that?"   
  
The Grey Lady rolled her eyes.  
  
Flitwick groaned.  
  
"What do yeu teach?" Willy asked.  
  
"I'm the Charms professor," Flitwick said. "And head of Ravenclaw-"  
  
"What are you telling him,Flitwick?"  
  
Willy recognized the voice.  
  
Professor Sprout glared at him.   
  
Flitwick didn't turn around. "Just introducing myself,Addie."  
  
She rolled up her sleeves. Her arms were heavily bandaged.  
  
"Tree did a number on yah," Willy said.  
  
"I'm going to keep both eyes on you," she said. she nodded  
  
at Flitwick-"Filius," and left the hall.  
  
"Yeesh," said Willy.  
  
"Professor Sprout's the Herbology teacher,head of Hufflepuff House. Usually,she's the nicest woman you'd ever want to meet. See,when  
  
you came here,our exchange-did you meet Hagrid?"  
  
"Nah,didn't meet 'im."  
  
"She and Hagrid are lovers."  
  
"Great," Willy said.  
  
He continued on his way up to the front. Flitwick walked alongside   
  
him on the table. Someone got up from the teachers' table,and headed  
  
towards them. Willy tried to make sense of the man.   
  
He felt as if he were suddenly inside the Troy McClure video MOMMY,  
  
WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT MAN'S FACE?   
  
The guy's face was heavily scarred and a piece of his nose was   
  
missing. Not to mention his wooden leg. He didn't seem to be aware   
  
of any of them,not even...that eye.   
  
"You seen Albus,Flitwick?" he asked. His voice was rough as gravel,  
  
but somehow friendly in a wary way.  
  
"He went up to his office,I think. Have you met Willy,Alastor?   
  
Willy,this is Professor Moody."  
  
"Scotsman?" Moody asked.  
  
"Aye," Willy said.  
  
One corner of Moody's mouth curled upwards into a feral smile.  
  
"You're not Hagrid," said Moody,"but you'll do." With a slight  
  
bow towards the Grey Lady,and a "Ma'am," he left. 


	15. Moody

17. MOODY  
  
J.K. Rowling owns all  
  
"Professor Moody,have you seen Harry?"  
  
"I've not seen him,Ron. You seen the Headmaster?"  
  
"No,I haven't."  
  
Hermione came around the corner,her arms loaded with books.  
  
"Where ya headed,Granger?"  
  
"Library," Hermione said.  
  
"Lemme take a few of those," Moody said. She handed a few books to   
  
him,and the rest to Ron. "You haven't seen Potter or the Headmaster  
  
either,I'm guessing?"  
  
"Sorry,I haven't."  
  
"Blast it,where's everyone going?"  
  
"Are there others missing?" Ron asked.  
  
"There are people I've been looking for that I can't find,is what  
  
I mean. Merlin,I can't believe you're the second last one. Tell   
  
your parents to have more children,would you? This place  
  
isn't the same without at least one Weasley around." He looked over  
  
at Hermione. "You don't have any brothers or sisters,do you?"  
  
"No,I don't."  
  
"Your parents are dentists,are they?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"I've never even been to a dentist," Moody said.   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Every time me baby teeth were fallin' out,I'd just do an Accio   
  
spell and it'd fall into me hand."  
  
"Wow," Ron said.   
  
"'Course,it could get painful,with the roots and all. I got used to  
  
it,though. Pain and me are on a first-name basis. Me scars may not  
  
be pretty,but they're mine and I wouldn't trade 'em for nothin'."  
  
"I'm amazed I don't have any scars sometimes," Ron said. "I mean,  
  
with five brothers..."  
  
Moody chuckled. "Don't go looking for permanent marks,Weasley. Some  
  
of 'em go beyond the flesh. Look at Harry. Look at me. You know how  
  
many children I've scared just by smiling at 'em?"  
  
"We're not scared of you," Hermione said.  
  
"Not even a little?" He sounded disappointed.  
  
"I like you,Professor Moody."  
  
Moody opened his mouth,but nothing came out. He looked at Hermione.  
  
They were almost the same height. "You do?"  
  
"You've always taken me seriously."  
  
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.  
  
"Granger, you wouldn't stand for anything else," Moody said. He   
  
turned to Ron and mussed his hair. Ron laughed.  
  
"So have you met Willy, Professor?"  
  
"A little while ago,yeah. He's not bad. I don't trust a lot of   
  
people on my first meeting 'em, but he should be fine."  
  
"I'll be happy when Hagrid comes back," Hermione said.  
  
"I know what you mean," Moody said. "This place seems smaller." 


	16. Warren

16. WARREN  
  
The driver woke up around sunrise.   
  
"Man,that's bright. Bet it's 'cause of all the nuclear-"  
  
"Knock knock," said Warren.   
  
"What?" said the driver.  
  
"I said,'Knock knock'." Warren had never learned his name. He wouldn't take the cap   
  
off. He had said something about having sensitive eyes.   
  
"Knock knock what?"  
  
"It's a JOKE. I say 'knock knock' and you say...ah,FORGET it. Where  
  
are you from, you don't understand jokes?"  
  
"Iceland," said the driver.  
  
"They tell jokes in Iceland,don't they?"  
  
"I was raised in a very serious family."  
  
"What's your name,anyway?"  
  
"My name is better left unsaid."  
  
Warren gave him a dirty look.  
  
"If you must call me,think of words to describe the sight of a   
  
mountain of ash darkening the sky. Call me that."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Volcanoes."  
  
"Volcanoes?"  
  
"We have them in Iceland. I miss them."  
  
"...shut up. Just shut up. And open your window,s'too hot in here."  
  
The driver rolled his window down.   
  
As he finished,and let go of the crank,a huge shadow rose up on the  
  
other side of the door. A distractingly big man with a headful of brown hair and   
  
beard stood there.   
  
"Had a witty remark all prepared," he said. "Can't remember it now."   
  
With that,he wrapped his fist around the driver's shirt collar and  
  
pulled him through the open window.  
  
"Oh crap," Warren said.  
  
The back door was wrenched open. Another man eased himself into the   
  
backseat. This one was tall,thin,and not merely old-he was ancient,  
  
but the years had been kind to him. He wore half-moon spectacles,  
  
golden robes, and those eyes Warren had tried to forget were right in his face   
  
again. This time they weren't twinkling,and he looked   
  
angry enough to eat sand and crap out a glass sculpture.  
  
"Dumbledore," he whispered.  
  
"Long time,Mr. Brecht."  
  
"Wh-what do you want?"  
  
"Get out of the car."  
  
"What?"  
  
He talked slowly and enunciated every syllable. His eyes were ice.  
  
"Get out," he said,"of the car."  
  
Warren opened the door. He slipped out of the car,and stepped onto the sidewalk.  
  
A huge number of people-a hundred,maybe even more- were staring at him. A lot of   
  
them looked like parents,some of whom were accompanied by children. One of them,  
  
Warren realized,was wearing a bee costume,and there was a guy dressed like a   
  
clown...he could just imagine all the nuclear mutants who'd stayed home.   
  
One of the crowd was Harry Potter.  
  
To Harry,Warren Brecht was rather handsome; he was big, thick-faced, with hair dark  
  
as his suit. He looked quite capable of attacking Professor Dumbledore without a   
  
second thought,but right now he was afraid.   
  
He kept glancing at Harry,who stood there,unafraid,next to Hagrid  
  
and a teacher everyone kept calling Mrs. Krabappel. Next to her   
  
was Mr. Skinner,the principal of Springfield Elementary.   
  
As Warren made his way around the front of the car, a tomato hit  
  
him right in the face.  
  
"Ha ha!" someone laughed.  
  
Warren wiped the tomato away; it splattered against the asphalt,  
  
splashing and ruining his expensive shoes.  
  
"N-now what?" Warren asked anyone who would tell him.  
  
"Get in the driver's seat," Hagrid said. Usually,Hagrid was   
  
friendly,gentle,utterly affable; Harry honestly loved the enormous man and he knew   
  
Hagrid cared deeply for him; it was an unspoken  
  
and powerful thing. Right now,he had his arm around Harry's shoulder.  
  
Harry felt both protected and calm,not to mention warm. The thing was  
  
that at the moment,Hagrid was not a friendly giant. He was a huge,  
  
dangerous doomsday machine,and if anyone were to endanger the   
  
lives of Harry or Professor Dumbledore,he...well,Harry didn't want  
  
to imagine what might happen.  
  
Warren opened the door.  
  
He looked back at Hagrid. Then he climbed into the driver's seat.  
  
"And now?"  
  
"Oh,a few times around the block should be fine," Skinner said.  
  
"Hah!" laughed Mrs. Krabappel. "Drive all the way to Shelbyville."  
  
"Once round the block," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Around the block?"  
  
"No more,no less."  
  
Warren started the car; in moments,they pulled away from the crowd.  
  
"Well,I'm glad that's over," Skinner said. "Can't thank you enough,  
  
Hagrid. You haven't been here two days and we're already indebted to you..."  
  
Hagrid blushed. "S'nothin'."  
  
Kids began wandering over to Hagrid. So did some parents. Harry   
  
heard "Who is he?" and "Does he live here?" and "Arrr,he's a big'un."  
  
"That was so cool,Hagrid," a kid said.  
  
Hagrid seemed to know him."All right,Bart?"   
  
"Oh yeah," he said.  
  
"Hey,Harry? This is Bart Simpson."  
  
Bart turned around."Hey," he said,grinning.  
  
"Hey," Harry said.   
  
"You're Harry?"   
  
Harry turned again. Somehow,he knew she was Bart's sister.  
  
"Mornin' Lisa," Hagrid said.   
  
"Good morning,Hagrid," she said. "Normally,I'm opposed to violence,  
  
but you handled that so well."  
  
"What did he want?" a woman with short,neat hair asked.   
  
"We don't know,Louanne."  
  
"Professor Dumbledore'll find out everything," Hagrid said.   
  
"He's the headmaster of the English school," Skinner explained.   
  
"Is he available?" Miss Hoover asked.  
  
Hagrid had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.  
  
"Well-"  
  
The car rounded the corner,and stopped on a dime,at the exact spot  
  
it had begun its journey.  
  
The door opened.  
  
Warren stepped out; he looked the same,except for his hair.  
  
Warren's hair had turned white.  
  
Without a word,he stumbled away from the crowd,walking with a sick  
  
gait that threatened to make him a member of the Minstry Of Silly  
  
Walks.  
  
The back door opened after a moment. Professor Dumbledore eased himself out of the   
  
car,shaking his head. He looked like he usually  
  
did,an elderly gentleman with blue eyes warm and twinkling. "These door handles,"  
  
he said, "Uneccessarily complicated,really."  
  
Everyone was staring at him,now.  
  
"What'd yeh say to him,Professor?" Mrs. Krabappel asked for them all.  
  
"I told him to leave your children alone," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Did he tell you anything?"  
  
"Nothing I didn't already know," Dumbledore said. He suddenly had   
  
the full attention of the crowd. "Your children are safe," he said."There's   
  
nothing else to say. However,I would appreciate knowledge of a good place   
  
to have lunch."  
  
"Anywhere but the school cafeteria," Bart said.  
  
"Dumbledore grinned. "Hello,Bart." His gaze wandered to Lisa. "Miss  
  
Simpson,it is wonderful to meet you."  
  
"You called me 'Miss Simpson,'" she said,her eyes wide.  
  
Meanwhile,Warren stumbled past an alley. There was a shadowy figure in the alley,  
  
concealed by a Dumpster.   
  
The lid of the Dumpster flew open,and a funny little man in filthy clothes rose out   
  
of the trash. He yelled something that sounded like "Hoyven MAAAVEN-" and fell out,  
  
landing in front of a pair of boots,which,as he found out,were attached to legs,  
  
and more. 


	17. The Plot Thickens

17. The Plot Thickens  
  
Hagrid picked the runaway soccer ball from the ground.  
  
"Here yeh go," he said,throwing it back to Bart's friend.   
  
"Thanks," Milhouse called over his shoulder.  
  
"What's that kid's name again?"   
  
"Milhouse," Dumbledore said. "Milhouse Van Houten. A good friend of  
  
Bart's. He's not the one they were watching."  
  
"What'd you say to that guy,Professor?" Harry asked.   
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Warren. What did you say to him?"  
  
"It's not what I said. I showed him what would happen if you or   
  
Hagrid were harmed in any way."  
  
"Must've been pretty awful."  
  
"He thought so. I'm not a violent man,but-"  
  
"Yer the least violent man I know," Hagrid said.  
  
"Thank you,Hagrid. I'm not a violent man,but I'll gladly make  
  
an exception for people who threaten those whom I care about.Why do  
  
you suppose my nose looks like it does?"  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. "Thank you."  
  
"You're quite welcome."  
  
The three of them sat together in silence,watching the children   
  
play. Dumbledore began humming to himself; he had seen the   
  
enrollment list of Springfield Elementary,and now he knew the name   
  
and face of every single student. Martin Prince had come by a few   
  
minutes ago to say hello. Martin didn't seem to have many friends,  
  
but he was far from a loner. As he ran away,Dumbledore saw a   
  
horrible scene in his head; a birthday party,Martin's. His parents   
  
had served oysters instead of cake and many people became   
  
dreadfully ill.   
  
"How will we know who it is?" Harry asked,the next time he spoke.  
  
"We're looking for a loner, Harry. Someone quiet."  
  
"But aren't they out of danger now?"  
  
"Warren was a Death Eater," Dumbledore said. "There will be others.  
  
Warren was employed by the American government. They've been   
  
watching the town for years."  
  
"They have?"   
  
"Doin' what?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Observing."  
  
"Working with the Death Eaters?" Harry asked. He had a dozen other  
  
questions whirling around in his head.  
  
"I honestly don't know. He wouldn't say anything else."  
  
As he finished speaking,the bell rang.  
  
Principal Skinner ushered the children back inside. Then he hurried  
  
over to the hut. "Listen,I hate to do this,but my third grade  
  
teacher-"  
  
"Miss Hoover?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"She has an appointment with her,uh,gynecologist-"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "I would be happy to temporarily replace her."  
  
"Thanks," Skinner said. He ran back into the building.  
  
"How long has it been since you taught?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"It's not as if I don't remember,Hagrid. Besides,I won't be  
  
teaching them how to turn mice into bowling balls. I sometimes sit   
  
in for our own professors when they're ill or away. This is no   
  
different."  
  
"If yeh say so,Professor Dumbledore,sir."  
  
"I'll see you after classes let out."  
  
With a nod,Professor Dumbledore left them,walked across the   
  
playground,and entered the school. 


	18. Snape

17. SNAPE  
  
JK Rowling owns all except "Dazed And Confused" by Led Zeppelin,  
  
Monty Python's "The Lumberjack Song" and,of course, Willy,who's  
  
the property of FOX.  
  
Professor Snape didn't know about the disappearances,and did not  
  
know that he was now in charge. Right now,he would have settled   
  
for the tune in his head to go away. "DAAAAZED and CONFUSED..."  
  
Jimmy Page's voice reverberated in his head; Pansy Parkinson   
  
had been wailing the tune through the hall. Snape thought her   
  
singing voice was slightly more bearable than the sound of   
  
fingernails dragging across a chalkboard,but not by much. Blaise  
  
Zabini,now that girl had a singing voice. Not that he had ever  
  
told her.  
  
He had been left in charge of the dueling club. Professor   
  
Lockhart's mind had spiraled down the drain (not that there was   
  
much to flush) and now Snape was in charge of the blasted   
  
organization. Madame Hooch assisted him. He had found Madame Hooch   
  
to be a competent duelist,but she was much better at hand-to-hand   
  
combat; she was a third-degree black belt,and knew several martial   
  
arts,including the curious art of tessenjutsu. Basically,  
  
tessenjutsu involved using a fan with deadly force. She was a   
  
fascinating woman,and her eyes-  
  
Snape snapped out of it. He stalked down the runway,staring down   
  
the students in turn. He nodded at Madame Hooch,who nodded back.   
  
"Today,we shall study an advanced concept. It is the use of what's   
  
known as...a focus."  
  
He paused. Ordinarily,there would have been confused mumbling,but  
  
not around Professor Snape. He was aware the students hated him,  
  
very much so. Yet they respected him. Some of them even feared him.  
  
Merlin,was he evil. But,blast it,Dumbledore was right; there was   
  
just as much-if not more-good in him. Sometimes,it really drove him  
  
nuts.   
  
"Now," he said,"I need some people who do not get on at all.   
  
Madame, your choice."  
  
"Potter," she said immediately.  
  
Potter was nowhere to be found.  
  
"Hmmm...has anyone seen Potter?"  
  
Potter would not miss this. Snape tried to form a vitriolic thought  
  
about Potter,but only came up with "Potter would not miss dueling   
  
club because he likes showing off to his classmates too much."  
  
No one had seen Potter. "Not since breakfast," Miss Granger said.  
  
Hermione Granger,Snape mused. She hung around with Potter, but he   
  
admired her ambition. It was a most Slytherinian...Slytherian?   
  
Slytherinesque? Slitheriny? Well,anyway,it was a Slytherin trait.  
  
"He had a meeting with the Headmaster," Mr. Ron "Potter's Right   
  
Red Hand Man" Weasley said. Bloody teenagers. Curse the lot of the   
  
masturbating wankers. Still,teaching them was preferable to killing  
  
them,as he had come to find out. He would defend to the death any  
  
one of these students. Not that he'd ever admit it to them. Well,  
  
perhaps not Potter. He could put up his own defense. Speaking  
  
of Potter,where was the little maggot? He'd have to go up to   
  
Albus's office and find out.  
  
"All right,then. Granger. Longbottom."  
  
Granger and LONGBOTTOM?   
  
"Granger might as well go up alone,Madame."  
  
"Nonsense, Professor."  
  
Neville joined Hermione on the platform.  
  
"All right,then. Malfoy, Flint, join them."  
  
Neville raised his eyebrows.  
  
Malfoy mouthed WHAT? and Professor Snape pulled him to his feet  
  
by the back of his Slytherin blazer. "Down there. Now." He shot  
  
a look at Marcus Flint,who got up and followed Draco.  
  
Poor Marcus, Madame Hooch thought. Everyone thinks he's half  
  
gargoyle and it's just a case of bad teeth.  
  
When he got within ten feet of Granger and Longbottom,the four of  
  
them stared so hard at each other, the people nearest to them began  
  
to sweat.  
  
"You are so dead," Malfoy said. "You may think you know what death  
  
is,but I'm going to redefine death for the both of you. All the   
  
dead people who've ever died,ever, are going to rise up singing the   
  
whole of CARMINA BURANA. They're going to look incredibly alive   
  
compared to you two."  
  
"Really,CARMINA BURANA?" Granger asked. "I'd think "The Lumberjack  
  
Song" would be just your speed,Malfoy."  
  
"Are you going to take that?" Marcus asked,grinning.  
  
"Right," Snape said. "These three obviously do not get along. You  
  
may find yourself,someday,in a deadly situation; at your side are  
  
one or more wizards facing the same threat as you,and the only   
  
choice is a collaboratory effort. However,the amount of animosty   
  
between you may hinder your abilities,and that is where the focus   
  
comes in. A focus is someone,with no feelings towards the people   
  
by which he is about to be used. Care to take over,Madame?"  
  
"Gladly," She stepped onto the platform. "It takes a certain amount  
  
of concentration to use a focus. Otherwise,it's deceptively simple.  
  
Just close your eyes and picture your magical abilities flowing into  
  
the focus; it's like pouring water into a glass. Not that it's   
  
without its dangers. A number of unfortunate individuals have   
  
exploded; their bodies just couldn't handle it."  
  
"Now,Malfoy,get in front."   
  
Malfoy did.  
  
"I'm a lumberjack and I'm okaaay..." Hermione whispered.  
  
Draco flared his nostrils. Somewhere in the jungles of Brazil,a   
  
mosquito had a heart attack.  
  
"Right,then-"   
  
That's when he saw Willy.  
  
He passed by the door,handling the tools in his grasp with  
  
expert precision. Snape pictured the man's messy demise; the  
  
house-elves would be sponging his remains off of the walls for  
  
days.  
  
"Professor Snape?"  
  
"I'll be right back," Snape said,and rushed from the room. To some  
  
of the students,his exit was like the rush of blackened wind. He  
  
came back with Willy.  
  
"Step up there," he said.  
  
Willy did that. He grinned at Hermione; Hermione's stomach turned,  
  
but she managed to be pleasant. "Do you like Hogwarts?" she asked.  
  
"Aye,lass."  
  
"There you go,Mudblood,make friends with the-"  
  
"Sod off,Draco," Neville said. "Or should I say...sod off,Slugger."  
  
Draco would have been angry had he not been so surprised.  
  
Hermione squeezed Neville's hand.  
  
"Now,this is wandless magic," Snape said,"First,take hold of Willy.  
  
Or just press your palm between his shoulder blades."  
  
"Leave his arms free," Madame Hooch said.  
  
Hermione spread her fingers exactly where Professor Snape had   
  
indicated. She could feel solid muscle under the clothes. Neville  
  
put his hand against the small of Willy's back and Draco reached up  
  
to touch Willy's neck. Marcus touched the back of Willy's head.  
  
"Now,he'll need one of your wands."  
  
"Just keep yours,Longbottom," Snape said.  
  
"Shove it up your ass, you greasy-haired git," Neville said. He   
  
didn't whisper it,either. He heard someone stifle a laugh; he was   
  
amazed when he realized it was Madame Hooch.  
  
"Nobody uses my wand but me," Draco said.  
  
"Who'd want to use your wand?" She handed her wand to Willy. "Be  
  
careful with it,please."  
  
Snape walked to the other end of the platform. "Now. I offer myself   
  
as the target. Remember,concentration is the key."  
  
They'll never get it,Snape thought.Willy would be ripped to shreds   
  
from the inside out.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Neville asked.  
  
"I think a nice,hard Expelliarmus would be perfect," Hermione said.  
  
"I agree," Marcus said.  
  
"Sounds good," Neville said. "Draco?"  
  
"Are you asking for MY opinion?"  
  
"Well...yeah."  
  
He blew a breath of air towards the ceiling. "Fine. Expelliarmus is   
  
just bloody brilliant. Not that I want to sound like Weasley."  
  
"Concentrate on Willy,Mr. Malfoy," Madame Hooch said. This isn't  
  
going to work,she thought. Put Malfoy in a group and forget it.  
  
Draco closed his eyes. So did Hermione and Neville. A moment later,  
  
Willy did too.  
  
There seemed to be an abundance of nothing happening on the other   
  
side of the platform. Snape stood there,humming to himself. Then  
  
he caught himself doing so. "I got that from the Headmaster,"  
  
he thought. "Three million bottles of beer on the wall...three   
  
million bottles of beer...if one of those bottles should happen to   
  
fall..."  
  
Willy's eyes flew open.   
  
"EXPELLIARMUS-"   
  
A beam of light flew out of Granger's wand,catching Snape   
  
completely by surprise. It lifted him into the air; he landed hard   
  
on the floor,skidding a few feet. The wall stopped him.  
  
"Gaaaaaaah," Willy said.  
  
"My sentiments exactly," moaned Snape. 


	19. Miss Hoover's Class

20. MISS HOOVER'S CLASS  
  
Anyone watching Albus Dumbledore wander the halls of Springfield   
  
Elementary would have asked him if he needed help. They could not  
  
have fathomed that he knew where he was going,despite never having  
  
been in the building before. He came to the door,which was open.  
  
"Is this Miss Hoover's class?"  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," cried a familiar voice.  
  
"Hello,Miss Simpson."  
  
He walked into the room.   
  
The class quieted down.  
  
They goggled up at him.  
  
Dumbledore thought of the students at Hogwarts as his own children.  
  
Even the Slytherin students. At times,there were kids,still getting  
  
used to their oft-strange world,whose fear was palpable. Sometimes  
  
they were afraid of him,for some reason. They soon learned there   
  
was nothing to fear,particularly from him.  
  
None of these boys and girls were afraid. There was an old man,  
  
perhaps reminiscent of their grandfathers,standing at the front of   
  
the room,in a colorful robe,his long silvery hair reaching towards   
  
the floor. He gave them a gentle smile.  
  
"Miss Hoover had to step out for awhile,children. Principal  
  
Skinner asked me to fill in for her."  
  
There was a moment of silence.   
  
"Are you really a wizard?" Janey asked,after a moment of silence.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I am."  
  
Another silence.   
  
"Are you evil?" the boy on Lisa's left asked.  
  
He gave the boy his warmest smile; he assumed that his eyes   
  
twinkled. "No,Andrew...do you prefer Andrew or Andy?"  
  
The boy smiled,his question answered. "Andy,please."  
  
Someone in the middle-Dumbledore didn't quite catch the source-said  
  
"Do a magic trick."  
  
Lisa gave him a sympathetic look.  
  
"A trick,eh?" Dumbledore thought for a moment. It wouldn't hurt.  
  
The Ministry could send him all the letters they wanted. He picked   
  
a pencil off of the desk. "Miss Simpson-"  
  
"Please call me Lisa."  
  
"All right. Lisa,catch."  
  
He threw the pencil towards Lisa; in midflight,it became a dove,  
  
and settled into Lisa's waiting arms.   
  
"Keep it if you like," Dumbledore said. "Though I see the class  
  
already has a hamster."  
  
"I can't keep her," Lisa said. "She'd get eaten."  
  
"Yes,Hagrid told me. A cat as well as a dog. I find that amazing."  
  
"Open the window,please? I think I should free her."  
  
"All right," Dumbledore said. He cranked open a window.   
  
Lisa joined Dumbledore at the window. She put the bird on the   
  
windowsill,and it burst into flight. In moments it was a faraway   
  
speck.  
  
"Are the kids at Hogwarts allowed to have pets?"  
  
Another girl,named Allison.  
  
"They're allowed a cat. Or a frog. Or an owl."  
  
Dumbledore left the window open. There was a warm breeze in the air.  
  
He made his way over to Miss Hoover's desk,pulled the chair out,  
  
and eased himself down. Hard chair,he thought. Miss Hoover's   
  
posterior must be made of metal. A moment later,the chair was not   
  
hard wood,but leathery and pliable.  
  
"What do you usually do at this time?" he asked.  
  
It was twelve-forty-five.  
  
"She usually just lets us draw," Lisa said.  
  
"All right," Dumbledore said. "You know,I believe there's an artist  
  
in all of us. Until Miss Hoover comes back,please indulge your   
  
artistic tendencies. Draw. Write. Create something wonderful."  
  
For an hour,he watched them,off in their own imaginary worlds. It  
  
did his heart much good. And then:  
  
"Perfressor Blumbledrawer?"  
  
Ralph Wiggum. He heard all the kids sigh within.  
  
"Yes,Ralph?"  
  
"I ate all my crayons again."  
  
"You ate them?"  
  
Ralph nodded sadly.   
  
"They must taste good."  
  
"They're different flavors. Red is cherry,blue is blueberry,green  
  
is lime or maybe it's pineapple-"  
  
"All right,Ralph. Miss Hoover has a pencil here-"  
  
"I'm not allowed to have sharp objects."  
  
"I see." He transfigured the pencil into a box of crayons.   
  
He walked to the back of the room,and gave them to Ralph.   
  
Ralph reached out to touch Dumbledore's beard.  
  
"Wow," he said. "Is there a crayon this color?"  
  
"There is now," Dumbledore said,giving it to him.  
  
Ralph took it from him,and their fingers touched  
  
-fire. Everything was burning. The children were burning. The   
  
flames coursed across the ceiling   
  
(Burn the house down. BURN 'EM ALL!)  
  
Dumbledore pulled his hand away as calmly as he could.  
  
He smiled down at Ralph,who grinned back.  
  
Then Dumbledore turned to walk back to the desk.  
  
Halfway back,he turned. "Oh,Ralph-"  
  
A shadow ducked out of sight behind Ralph's head.  
  
"Yes?" Ralph asked.  
  
"Never mind."  
  
Dumbledore went back and sat down at the desk.   
  
As he sat there,he realized his hands were shaking.   
  
He,supposedly the greatest wizard in the world,the enemy of  
  
evil, the one responsible for Jacek (YOT-seck) Grindelwald's   
  
ultimate defeat,Voldemort's worst fear, beloved by children,  
  
tolerated by his peers-  
  
Albus Dumbledore did not know fear easily.  
  
...But he was afraid of Ralph Wiggum.  
  
In the next few minutes,he glanced up at Ralph more times than he   
  
could count. The boy's head was filled with fire.   
  
Fear gave way to curiosity.   
  
Curiosity gave way to a monarch butterfly fluttering past the   
  
window.  
  
As he watched the butterfly,Dumbledore began humming to himself.  
  
The room was too quiet,he thought.  
  
"Would anyone mind some music?"  
  
No one objected.   
  
"There's a stereo under the desk," Lisa said.  
  
Dumbledore found it.  
  
"She's had that forever. She never turns it on."  
  
"What would you like to hear?" he asked the class.  
  
"What do you like?" Rex asked. Rex had an actor's voice.  
  
"Chamber music is my favorite," Dumbledore said. "How about you?"  
  
"Metal," Rex said,smiling.  
  
"Lisa?"  
  
"I like jazz," Lisa said. "I even play the saxamaphone."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"Excuse me...the saxophone."  
  
"Oh,the saxophone. Of course. Interesting instrument."  
  
Dumbledore found the ON/OFF button. When he flipped it,nothing   
  
happened. "Hmmm," he said. Then he thought of something. "Excuse  
  
me. I'll be right back."  
  
He stood up.   
  
Lisa showed him the picture she had drawn. "Is this what Hogwarts   
  
looks like?"  
  
Dumbledore was astounded. "It's...quite interesting. There are more  
  
towers,and many more windows,but this is lovely,Lisa. Is it   
  
finished?"  
  
"It's finished."  
  
"May I hang it in my office?"  
  
That infectious grin again. "All right," she said.  
  
"Be right back," he said.  
  
He walked out of the room for a moment.  
  
He didn't come back alone.  
  
Some of the kids gasped,seeing the beautiful bird hanging onto   
  
Dumbledore's arm.   
  
"This is Fawkes," Dumbledore said. "My most faithful companion."  
  
Fawkes lifted off of his arm,did a loop,and then landed on Lisa's  
  
desk. There's certainly something about Lisa Simpson. Fawkes senses  
  
it,too,I'm sure.   
  
Lisa reached out to touch him. Fawkes let her stroke his plumage.  
  
The class gathered around her desk.  
  
"What is he?" she asked  
  
"A phoenix," Dumbledore said.  
  
Hagrid had told her about Lisa; he could see it himself. She was a   
  
skeptic; it was a cliche,but she was wise beyond her years, almost  
  
too smart. There was hardly any room for nonsense,and now that she  
  
had experienced these things so beyond her reality,she was curious.  
  
"I never knew..." She recovered. "Phoenixes are immortal. When they  
  
die,they're reborn in the ashes. Right?"  
  
"Fifty thousand points,Lisa. His tears also heal wounds. They're   
  
very faithful,as well. Fawkes also has a beautiful singing voice."  
  
As if he'd been cued,Fawkes looked Lisa right in the eyes and   
  
sang a single note that made her smile.  
  
As the note died,the bell rang.  
  
"School's over already?"   
  
The kids reluctantly withdrew from Fawkes.  
  
As they packed up to go home,Fawkes jumped onto the windowsill.  
  
"Meet you at Hagrid's," Dumbledore said.  
  
Fawkes made a little noise in his throat,and then took off into  
  
the sky. When Dumbledore turned back,the room was empty.  
  
Except for Ralph.  
  
Ralph was sitting at his desk, his head heavy. He was crying.  
  
Dumbledore bent down.  
  
"Ralph? What's wrong?"   
  
"It was the bird," Ralph said.  
  
"Fawkes didn't frighten you did he? He's quite harmless-"  
  
"His song hurt."  
  
"It did?"  
  
"It made my head all oozy."  
  
Someone came to the door.  
  
"Ralphie?"  
  
Dumbledore turned.  
  
"Hey,who are you?"  
  
The man in the doorway was very fat. It was a powerful kind of fat,  
  
though,as if he were hiding a cauldron under his uniform.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore," Dumbledore said. "We sent our groundskeeper-"  
  
"Oh,yeah,the exchange." He stuck out his hand and smiled. "Clancy  
  
Wiggum. I'm the law around here."  
  
Dumbledore shook his hand.   
  
"My head hurts,Daddy."  
  
"Awww," Wiggum said. "C'mon,Ralphie,we'll make it better at home."  
  
In moments,Dumbledore was alone in the room. 


	20. Moody And Snape

21. MOODY AND SNAPE  
  
"Anthrax Ripple," Professor Moody said,with a genuine smile. It  
  
was as if Albus had changed the password just for him. There wasn't   
  
a wizard alive who wasn't at least aware of Monty Python's Flying  
  
Circus; there were wizard comedy troupes,but none of them came   
  
close to the Pythons. After the events of last year, Dumbledore had  
  
immersed him in art and culture and beauty. It wasn't easy,because  
  
what he had been through had left him severely traumatized. He had   
  
been robbed of his identity,his dignity. Losing a leg had been a   
  
cakewalk compared to what that Barty Crouch kid had done to him.   
  
He came close to giving up and eating his wand. Fortunately,Albus   
  
Dumbledore was a patient man. One day,he came into the room-Moody   
  
was recovering at Hogwarts-with some videotapes; there was already   
  
a muggle television in the room, as well as a stereo system for   
  
music and an enchanted bookshelf that contained anything Moody   
  
wished to read. He had been reading the works of various   
  
philosophers; Descartes, Hume(how Hume managed to get up in the  
  
morning,he had no idea) Plato,even Machiavelli. When he was in the   
  
mood for fiction there was Poe,Lovecraft,Joe R. Lansdale-Moody's   
  
taste in fiction ran to the darker side of the imagination. Anyway,  
  
Dumbledore came in,followed by several house-elves,all carrying   
  
videos.   
  
"I think you'll appreciate these," Dumbledore said,and left.  
  
They turned out to be episodes of MONTY PYTHON'S FLYING CIRCUS.  
  
For days,Moody was frequently out of breath from laughing. All the   
  
jokes he remembered were there,all the classic routines.   
  
Particularly the sketch entitled "Crunchy Frog." It concerned c  
  
hocolates with the worst fillings imaginable and it   
  
was absolutely the funniest thing Moody had ever heard.  
  
One day,he felt ready to move on,past the terrible events of last  
  
year. He remembered waking up to the soft patter of rain; the sky  
  
was the grayest he'd ever seen and then right before his eyes, a   
  
dark waterspout formed in the lake. He opened the window,and the   
  
wind-whipped rain battered his face. It felt wonderful. Alastor  
  
Moody,scarred but unbroken, was back,baby.  
  
The door to the Headmaster's office was already open.  
  
Moody pulled out his wand.  
  
Then he stepped into the room.  
  
Thousands of separate,tiny sounds filled the air. After awhile,  
  
you just didn't notice them. Particularly not the snoring coming  
  
from the portraits on the walls.  
  
Fawkes was there,placidly perched.  
  
The bird did not look agitated.  
  
He gave Moody a sharp look.  
  
"Right back at ya," Moody said.  
  
The room was huge. Dumbledore could be anywhere,even right beside  
  
him,if he were invisible.   
  
There were two envelopes on Albus's desk.  
  
One of them was marked ALASTOR and the other was marked SEVERUS.  
  
He found another one,empty,in the wastebasket.   
  
This one read MINERVA.  
  
Where was Professor McGonagall,anyway?   
  
For that matter,where was Snape?  
  
The wind whistled through the balcony door.  
  
It swung towards the wall,and bounced.   
  
A shadow fell across the floor.  
  
Moody readied his wand.  
  
The figure backed out of the doorway,clad in black from head to   
  
toe. It was obviously Severus Snape; the hair gave him away.  
  
"Professor Snape," Moody said. "What brings you here?"  
  
Snape turned. Any other man would have spun around on their heel.  
  
(If we took the bones out,it wouldn't be crunchy,would it?)  
  
"I could ask you the same," he said,adding "Professor Moody,"   
  
almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Looking for the Headmaster," Moody said.  
  
Snape looked from Moody to the desk and back again.  
  
"I don't think you'll find him in there."  
  
"You never know," Moody said.  
  
Snape opened his mouth,and then closed it.  
  
Finally,he said,"I thought I heard him," Snape said. "A moment   
  
ago."  
  
"He left you a letter," Moody said. He held it out to Snape.  
  
Snape swept it out of Moody's grasp.  
  
He went back out to the balcony.  
  
Taking his letter,Moody followed him. The balcony overlooked the   
  
lake; he could see someone indiscriminate playing with the giant   
  
squid.   
  
"Does that squid have a name?"  
  
"What?" Snape asked,raising his eyebrows.  
  
"The squid in the lake," Moody said. "What's it's name? Is it a boy  
  
squid or a girl squid?"  
  
"How should I know?" Snape asked,irritated."Aren't you going to read your letter?"  
  
"What does yours say?"  
  
Snape gave him a look that would have melted steel.  
  
"Humph," Moody said,and went back into the office.  
  
Fawkes was nowhere to be found.  
  
"That bleeding bird," Moody said. 


	21. Ralph

20. RALPH  
  
JK Rowling and Matt Groening own these characters. * = italics. Also,I think I might be   
  
taking some unintentional liberties with the layout of the town.   
  
If anyone sees any glaring errors,please let me know.  
  
One thing Hagrid remembered best about his childhood was music.   
  
Wild,beautiful music that made giants dance,shaking the earth in   
  
their revelry. None of them could play the piano,of course. The  
  
keys were too small for their fingers. When it came to the harp,  
  
however,giants were masters. Wind instruments,too,of course.   
  
Several of his friends went on to form a grindcore band called   
  
Juggernaut.  
  
In the cool shadow of the hut,Hagrid played the flute for Harry.  
  
Some of the melodies he played had never journeyed beyond the the   
  
lands of his people. He had no problem sharing them with Harry.   
  
After being locked up by those idiot Dursleys,  
  
Harry needed this; music,friends,the simple ability to be himself.   
  
If Hagrid ever saw Vernon Dursley again,it would take every ounce   
  
of his self-control not to yank his intestines out and   
  
use them for anthropomancy.   
  
He came to the end of another tune. "How'd yeh like that?"  
  
"It was beautiful,Hagrid."  
  
"Oh...hey,are yeh hungry?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Hagrid gave Harry what looked like a long sandwich. He had one for   
  
himself.Of course,after one bite,it was almost gone.  
  
"They're called cheesesteaks," he said. "Not bad."  
  
Harry took a bite. "It's good," he said. As he chewed,he asked,  
  
"When the exchange is over-"  
  
"Monday mornin'," Hagrid said.  
  
"Did you say we're going to study...duppies?"  
  
Hagrid's eyes went wide. "Not on yer life,mate. Too dangerous."  
  
Harry was probably glad he drew the line somewhere.   
  
"What's a duppy,Hagrid?"  
  
"I wouldn' mess with duppies,yeh paid me,Harry. They're ghosts,is   
  
what they are. Not animals. Last time I was in Jamaica,guy I met   
  
in a bar tried unloadin' a duppy on me,I got out quick. 'E was a   
  
known *obeah* man."  
  
"What's an *obeah* man?"  
  
"A magic doctor,kinda. Yeh pay 'em to summon the duppy and yeh   
  
gotta pay 'em more to remove it."  
  
"Why are they so dangerous?"  
  
"Yeh get the *obeah* man ta summon 'em with a ritual,right out of   
  
the grave,and they're bad-tempered,so they'll do whatever yeh want.  
  
See,they're made of the darker emotions of humanity. You put 'em   
  
in an enemy's house and they...well,they put the lady of the house   
  
in some real dire straits and she winds up givin' birth ta...well,  
  
things that ain't human...I don't wanna expose anyone at Hogwarts   
  
to anythin' like that."  
  
"Then we're not studying duppies-I must've heard you wrong."  
  
Hagrid smiled,which always put Harry at ease.   
  
"I guess yeh did. I said DOBBY,not DUPPY."  
  
"We're going to study Dobby? I know all I want to know about   
  
Dobby."  
  
"Not jus' Dobby,Harry. Elves. We're studyin' elves."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. "Okay."  
  
Hagrid chuckled,and ruffled his hair.  
  
Another silence fell; it wasn't as if they had nothing to say to   
  
each other,but when Harry was silent,Hagrid let him think.   
  
Harry dropped his head against Hagrid's shoulder.  
  
Hagrid wrapped his arm around Harry.   
  
*Do you remember,Harry? Do you remember me holding you in my arms   
  
that night,with the wind screaming at our backs?*  
  
Then:  
  
"Hagrid?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"We...we would have met even if-" He didn't have to say  
  
'my parents hadn't been murdered' and Hagrid didn't expect him to.  
  
"Course we would've," Hagrid said.   
  
"Good."  
  
"Harry?" Hagrid asked,the next time he spoke.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I made yeh somethin'."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"A quilt. Knitted it m'self."  
  
"Hagrid-"  
  
"I know about yer nightmares," Hagrid said. "I know yeh're still  
  
in pain,and I don't want yeh to be. I hate when yer sad. I can't   
  
magic all yer sadness away-hell,it's part of bein' a teenager-but   
  
yer not just sad,Harry,yer soul's in anguish." Tears fell down his   
  
cheeks. He couldn't help it. His voice started to crack. "I love   
  
yeh too much to watch yeh suffer. The quilt I made...it's loaded   
  
with magic."  
  
"It is?"  
  
Hagrid wiped his eyes clear. "Yeah." He got ahold of himself.   
  
"Yeah. With natural magic. Real powerful stuff. Me and Professor   
  
Sprout enchanted it."  
  
"Professor Sprout,too?"  
  
"She thinks the world of yeh,Harry."  
  
"For awhile,I thought she hated me."  
  
*"Why would I hate you,dear?"*  
  
*She sat down beside him.*  
  
*"I was sure you hated me."*  
  
*She didn't have to ask why. Cedric. The boy blamed himself.*  
  
*"I don't hate you at all." she said,gentle,almost whispering.*   
  
She handed him a handkerchief. For a moment,she held his hand  
  
in hers.  
  
*"I could never hate anyone named Potter," she said.*  
  
*The greenhouse walls vibrated with their laughter.*  
  
"She told me."  
  
"I like Professor Sprout,Hagrid. But what happened to Madame   
  
Maxime?"  
  
"Me and Olympe'll always be friends,Harry. Nothin' else. I got most  
  
of the teachers to put a bit of magic in it,Harry. Dumbledore,   
  
o'course. Professor McGonagall. Most of 'em."  
  
"Except Snape,I'll bet."  
  
"No,Snape thought it was for Fang. Yeh know Snape's a complex man,  
  
Harry. But e's not a monster. Only teacher I didn't get was   
  
Trelawney."  
  
"She probably didn't see the point," Harry said. "I think she-"  
  
Above their heads,a rush of wings split the air.  
  
Then Fawkes landed with his usual grace,right in front of Harry.  
  
"Fawkes," Harry said. "How'd you get here?"  
  
Fawkes hopped into Harry's lap.  
  
As Harry petted Fawkes,Hagrid played a few notes on the flute.  
  
Fawkes sang them back. The bird fascinated Hagrid; he was   
  
Professor Dumbledore's beloved pet,so Hagrid naturally loved him.  
  
He could sense that Fawkes liked him. He had healed Hagrid's   
  
shoulder after an accident with a Hungarian Horntail and from  
  
then on,he and Fawkes-  
  
The three o'clock bell rang.  
  
A minute later,Bart Simpson burst onto the playground,a strange   
  
board with wheels under his arm.  
  
"Hey,guys." Bart said.  
  
"Hey there,Bart," Hagrid said. "What'd yeh have to write today?"  
  
"'I Will Not Tell Substitute Teachers About The Pool On The Roof.'"   
  
Hagrid laughed like crazy; Harry laughed a little.  
  
Harry stopped long enough to point at the board.  
  
"That's a skateboard,isn't it?"  
  
"Sure is," Bart said. "Haven't you ever ridden a skateboard?"  
  
"I ride a broom," Harry said.  
  
"A broom?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Is it difficult?"  
  
"Is riding a skateboard difficult?"  
  
"Hell,no."  
  
"Will you teach me?"  
  
"Yeah. I mean,it can't be any harder than riding a broom." Then  
  
he noticed Fawkes. "Wow..."  
  
"Bart,this is Fawkes."  
  
"Hey,Fawkes," Bart said.  
  
Fawkes flew onto Bart's shoulder.  
  
"I think he likes yeh," Hagrid said. "Can we walk yeh home?"  
  
"Yeah,why not..."  
  
They walked around to the front.  
  
Professor Dumbledore was there,on the front steps,talking to   
  
Principal Skinner. Bart wondered how old Professor Dumbledore was.   
  
When the old man moved,he glided down the steps. He was obviously   
  
very old, but he didn't move like he would be checking into the   
  
Springfield Retirement Castle. Bart had seen enough movies to know   
  
that Professor Dumbledore obviously had totally badass powers that   
  
he chose not to show off. There was an energy surrounding him,a   
  
warm,friendly heat that made Bart feel at ease. Bart usually wound   
  
up taking advantage of people like Dumbledore,but this time,he had   
  
a feeling that Albus Dumbledore was a man who would easily see   
  
through his most,as Dad might say-though most likely he probably   
  
wouldn't-sophistimicated machinations. Plus,as soon as Fawkes saw   
  
Dumbledore,he left Bart's shoulder and settled on Dumbledore's   
  
outstretched arm.  
  
"Cool," Bart said. "Lisa said you had a phoenix,but this-"  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Fawkes amazes me daily."  
  
He smiled down at Bart,and Bart swore his eyes twinkled.  
  
"Bart...may I ask you a few questions?"  
  
"I swear, I didn't-"  
  
"No,no,you're not in any kind of trouble. May I walk with you?"  
  
"Sure. Hagrid and Harry were walking me back."  
  
Dumbledore walked with Bart; Harry and Hagrid stayed close behind.  
  
"Will your sister be joining us?"  
  
"Nah. She's probably already home."  
  
Professor Dumbledore nodded.   
  
For a while,they walked together,in silence. Professor Dumbledore  
  
took in the sights,although it was obvious he was a worldly,  
  
intelligent man who'd probably seen a hundred towns like   
  
Springfield.He even started to hum to himself; it wasn't a tune   
  
Bart recognized.  
  
As they waited for a Walk/Dont Walk sign to change,Dumbledore   
  
cleared his throat. Bart looked up at him to find the elderly   
  
wizard looking down; they locked eyes. Bart had never felt such   
  
power.  
  
"Bart...are you familiar with Ralph Wiggum?"  
  
"...Ralph?"  
  
"So you are," he said as they crossed the street.  
  
"Yeah,kinda. We hung out a while ago..."  
  
"Did you ever notice...anything out of the ordinary?"  
  
"Professor Dumbledore,the sign just changed to DON'T WALK," Harry  
  
said. "What are we supposed to do?"  
  
"Don't worry,Harry,just keep going. How about it,Bart? Does Ralph  
  
ever do anything strange?"  
  
"Besides everything? Professor,Ralph's a weird kid. I know that  
  
might sound mean-"  
  
"No,no,Bart...that's just fine. Although I do hope you got to know  
  
Ralph when you,as you say,hung out with him."  
  
"Yeah," Bart said. "I...uh...did."  
  
"Is there something you'd like to tell me?"  
  
"There might be."  
  
Dumbledore knelt in front of Bart and looked him in the eyes again.  
  
"Bart,if there's something you know,tell me. Please."  
  
Bart looked at his feet.  
  
"I know how much Ralph likes fire," Dumbledore said.  
  
Bart looked up again. "You won't think I'm lying?"  
  
"Nothing you could say would surprise me."  
  
Bart mumbled something.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"A leprechaun," Bart said.   
  
"A leprechaun?"  
  
"He said he saw a leprechaun and it told him to set stuff on fire."  
  
Dumbledore nodded slowly.  
  
"You KNOW about the leprechaun?"   
  
"I saw it," Dumbledore said. "It didn't want me to,but I saw it."  
  
"Whoa. What-"  
  
"I'll let the expert handle your questions. Hagrid?"  
  
"Bart,yeh don't see a leprechaun 'less it wants ta be seen. Yer sure  
  
he said 'leprechaun' and not 'cluricaun'?"  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"Good. See,leprechauns love playin' tricks. Yeh've heard the story  
  
about the guy who found the leprechaun's gold?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"He found the leprechaun in the forest,and made him take the the guy to a place where he'd buried 'is gold. It was at the base of a tree, so 'e tied a red rag to a branch on the tree so he'd know where to  
  
look. He went home ta get a shovel...guy was gone maybe two minutes,  
  
and I bet yeh can guess what happened when 'e came back."  
  
"There was a red rag tied around every tree in the forest."  
  
"Ten points to Mr. Simpson," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Leprechauns are smart little buggers. Ornery,too. They're also known as lurachmain, lurican, lurgadhan and a bunch of other names,  
  
dependin' on the regional dialect."  
  
"Do leprechauns like starting fires?"  
  
"They make shoes," Hagrid said. "What Ralph has sounds like a real   
  
disgruntled leprechaun."  
  
"What does it want with Ralph?"  
  
"Dunno,Bart."  
  
As he said that,they passed a large,stately building. There was   
  
a sign out front which read SPRINGFIELD RETIREMENT CASTLE.  
  
"My grandpa lives here," Bart said. "Do wizards have retirement homes?"  
  
"No," Dumbledore said. "We don't. Age affects us differently,Bart."  
  
"Yeah," Bart said. "You seem so old...no offense-"  
  
Dumbledore just smiled. "I had a friend named Nicolas who lived to be six hundred and sixty seven."  
  
"Cool," Bart said. "He had a six hundred and sixty sixth birthday."  
  
"His wife-"  
  
"Baaaaaaaaaart..."  
  
"Did you hear that?" Bart asked.  
  
"Sounded like the wind,calling your name. Of course,it could be a   
  
wendigo."  
  
"What the hell is a wendigo?"  
  
"You saw THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT,didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Bart said. "I thought it was stupid."  
  
"It certainly did witches a disservice. The characters were killed   
  
by a wendigo,or as some call it,a trickster."  
  
Bart looked over his shoulder. "It's just my grandpa."  
  
Grandpa lurched across the lawn,trying to keep his glasses on and   
  
his pants up. Or maybe it was the other way around. In either case,  
  
he looked panicky.  
  
"Bart,you gotta take me home!"  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
Grandpa danced from one foot to the other. "They're fixing the TV   
  
and we can't watch anything and it's almost time for MAAAATLOCK!"  
  
"Whoa. Okay,c'mon home,Grandpa. Professor Dumbledore,this is my   
  
grandpa, Abraham Simpson."  
  
"Albus Dumbledore," he said. The two men shook hands.  
  
"Over there,the big guy is Hagrid and that's Harry."  
  
In no time at all,they turned onto Evergreen Terrace.  
  
"...Well,it was 1948,or thereabouts,and people were making a   
  
fashion statement all across the country by wearing prosthetic-"  
  
Grandpa had been droning on for a minute; it only broke when he  
  
reached the sidewalk. Then he dashed towards the house,beat his   
  
fists upon the door,and dashed inside when Mrs. Simpson opened the   
  
door.  
  
"I better make sure he's okay," Bart said,breaking from the group."C'mon in if you want."  
  
Bart disappeared inside the house. As the door closed,the   
  
front door of the house next door opened. A man rushed out,  
  
brandishing a crucifix. He wore wire-rimmed glasses,a fuzzy green  
  
sweater and freshly ironed slacks. "Witches!" he yelled; he had a rather nasally voice. "You ding-dang-doodly-don't belong here-"  
  
"Really,sir." Dumbledore said; if there was one thing he loved,i  
  
it was being polite to the exceedingly rude,or in this case,angry.  
  
It got Lucius Malfoy every time. "I'm not a witch. I'm a wizard."  
  
"Well,what about these two?" He waved the crucifix at them.  
  
Dumbledore took it from him. "You could hurt someone with this.  
  
Hagrid is not a wizard. Harry is my student. We are not evil,  
  
as you may have been led to believe."  
  
"Yeh're Ned Flanders,aren't yeh?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"How'd you know that?"  
  
"Homer mentioned yeh a few times."  
  
"Oh. Well,uh...excuse me."  
  
He ran back towards the house-"Rod! Todd! Put the holy water away..."  
  
and slammed the door,leaving the trio outside on the sidewalk. 


	22. Marais

23. MARAIS  
  
There's a character I did not create in this chapter. That's all  
  
I'm going to say...  
  
Marais took a sip of the brownish water. When he was sure no one  
  
was watching,he spat it into the vase on the table; in the vase was   
  
a cluster of white lilies. He had been trying to remember what they   
  
were supposed to mean. Roses were for love,he knew that much. He  
  
had never liked roses. Poison had been right; every rose really   
  
DID have its thorn and Marais usually wound up puncturing his   
  
flesh with them every time he touched one.   
  
"That's a Billy Joel song," he said to himself. "And every  
  
taaaiiime I've haaaaald a rooooo-hooooose..."  
  
He had been sitting in The Gilded Truffle for the longest time. The  
  
waitress was somewhere in the back; for all he knew,she was giving   
  
the cook a massage. But no,here,she was coming out of the back.  
  
"Excuse me," Marais said. He extended an arm to stop her; she   
  
glanced at the black skull tattoo on his forearm. "Yes?" she asked.  
  
"I am ready to...how do you say it...I am ready to be ordering,  
  
ma'am."  
  
"Are you from France?" she asked.  
  
"France,yes,I am. France." Marais smiled,then spat out nervous   
  
laughter. "Francais,mon cherie."  
  
"Long way from home,huh?"  
  
"I would like a...haaaam. A burger with the ham."  
  
"We don't get many hamburgers here,but I'll see what I can do."  
  
She walked away.   
  
Marais thought about what she'd said. What were the others eating?  
  
There was a quiet couple near the window; baked potatoes and steak  
  
for them. A lone man near the entrance was eating little cubes of   
  
blackened meat.   
  
Then,a woman filled the entranceway. She was at least seven feet   
  
tall,as wide as the doorway,and the most distressing thing about  
  
her was that she...well,if she were on fire,these flames were the  
  
strangest Marais had ever seen. They were blue,black at the edges.  
  
Despite the fire,he could see her wide,staring eyes,and they were   
  
more terrifying than Lord Voldemort's. It wasn't the color that   
  
made him want to scream because he couldn't identify the color,it   
  
was that as soon as they made eye contact,he felt as if she were   
  
inside of him. Worms crawled in and out of her head,spilling at her  
  
feet.  
  
She floated further into the room. Couldn't anyone else SEE this   
  
woman? Everyone just kept eating and laughing, She glided past the  
  
other tables and no one paid the least bit of attention to her.   
  
She saw him.  
  
He tried to move. His legs didn't work.  
  
She raised her left arm and pointed at him,speaking words in a   
  
language he didn't recognize-  
  
*"Du willst bei das Wasser loschen,Mutter Shabubu gesehen..."  
  
Her finger moved to his left hand,which closed around the glass of  
  
water; his jaw convulsed,and before he knew it he was tilting the  
  
glass towards his lips. The water tasted absolutely awful,but he  
  
couldn't break her hold on him.   
  
Then,inside his throat,he felt the liquid...hardening.   
  
In seconds,he was gasping for breath. He staggered to his  
  
feet and danced around the restaurant,clutching at his throat.  
  
He could feel his face turning blue-why weren't they helping him?  
  
Wh-  
  
The patrons saw the tall blonde man collapse to the floor. By the  
  
time someone got to him,he had suffocated,his esophagus blocked   
  
off by a chunk of ice. 


	23. Dumbledore

22. DUMBLEDORE  
  
The usual disclaimers apply. I'm upping the rating to R for no  
  
specific reason. So far,there's been violence and profanity.There's   
  
some nonsexual nudity in this chapter. I've really been restraining   
  
myself. I hope it's been funny enough.   
  
"-we'll be back to REAL PEOPLE IN REAL PAIN after these mes-"  
  
Dumbledore turned the television off with a flick of his wand.  
  
He sat on the couch,deep in thought. Someone had worked a groove   
  
into the couch,and he had gotten stuck in it for a moment.   
  
He was alone in the living room; Marge was in the house somewhere.   
  
Grandpa had watched MATLOCK and now Bart,Homer and Harry were   
  
walking him back to the Retirement Castle. Hagrid had gone back to   
  
feed Fang. Lisa was in the house,somewhere. Fawkes had made friends  
  
with Santa's Little Helper and Snowball II. They were romping   
  
around outside,and now-  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a tugging on his robe.  
  
He looked down. "And who are you?" he asked the tiny girl,picking  
  
her up. "You must be Maggie," he said. "Aren't you a darling."  
  
Marge walked in to see Dumbledore holding Maggie close,humming  
  
Brahms' Lullaby. Maggie was almost asleep.   
  
"I know the words,if she prefers them," he said. "In German or   
  
English." He began singing softly. "*Guten abend,gut nacht...mit   
  
Roslein bedaa-acht...mit naglein bestecht...schluf unter die   
  
Deckt*..."  
  
"Do you have children?" Marge asked.  
  
His face fell.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said. "What about Harry?"  
  
He smiled. It was a sad smile.  
  
"It's just...the way you look at him."  
  
"Harry-" he looked down. "I think she's asleep."  
  
He handed Maggie over to Marge.   
  
Maggie yawned,but did not wake up.  
  
"How old is she?"  
  
"She's-" Marge looked back. "Did you turn the TV off?"  
  
"I'm sorry,do you like REAL PEOPLE IN REAL PAIN?"  
  
"Oh. No,no,it's just that that thing's on all the time...I'm not  
  
used to it so quiet around here." Homer Simpson,he decided,was the   
  
luckiest man who had ever walked the planet.  
  
"Is there a special channel for wizards?"  
  
"Not yet," he said. "I've never watched much television,myself.   
  
There have been a few programs,though...have you ever watched THE   
  
TWILIGHT ZONE?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"That show featured some of the most poetic writing I've ever   
  
heard. I can't possibly pick a favorite episode."  
  
"Mine is 'Number Twelve Looks Just Like You.'"  
  
"Then,of course,there's DOCTOR WHO and MONTY PYTHON'S FLYING   
  
CIRCUS.British institutions,both of them. Things we share with your  
  
world."  
  
"I tried watching DOCTOR WHO once when I was little. I ended up   
  
hiding from the monsters behind the couch."  
  
"I played a monster on DOCTOR WHO once."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"I was a Cyberman. None of us could see because the costumes didn't  
  
have eyeholes. We had to memorize everything around us,but there   
  
are outtakes featuring people falling over chairs and bumping into  
  
each other. I remember one episode where an alien fell over a   
  
deckchair and they just kept filming."  
  
Marge laughed.   
  
Maggie shifted in her arms.  
  
"Would you like to hold her again?"  
  
"I-"  
  
He glanced towards the window.  
  
"Just a moment," he said.  
  
He made his way towards the window.  
  
"There are people outside Ned Flanders' home."  
  
Marge joined him at the window.   
  
"I don't see anyone."  
  
"Excuse me a moment," he said. "Don't be alarmed. I'm going to  
  
become invisible."  
  
Just like that,he vanished before her eyes.  
  
"I wouldn't want to steal Bart's thunder," Marge said,"But that   
  
was COOL."  
  
A rush of warm air brushed over her cheek.  
  
Then,at the front door,the knob turned; the door swung open.  
  
"Just knock,and I'll let you back in," she said.  
  
The door closed at Dumbledore's back.  
  
He strolled down the front walk,then turned towards the Flanders  
  
residence. There were two people standing on the lawn-a man and a   
  
woman. Neither of them were alive.  
  
The woman had died badly. She had once been lovely,in a quiet way.   
  
Her arms and legs bent at terrible angles. She looked like a   
  
discarded marionette.Dumbledore had broken his nose a few times,but  
  
this woman's face was one big bruise. Fortunately,he did not get  
  
the impression that she had been beaten to death; that was one   
  
thing he could not stand by and watch-men who beat their wives.   
  
Cowards. He had been raised to respect women; they put up with a   
  
lot of nonsense.   
  
Dumbledore could not see through her. "Hello," he said.   
  
"Oh," she said. "Hello."  
  
"Hey," the other one said. He was a mass of burnt,charred flesh. He  
  
wore eyeglasses of black,squarish plastic; they were fused with  
  
his face. His slacks and button-down shirt(accompanied by matching   
  
tie) were fried. It was impossible to tell skin and cloth apart.   
  
"We saw you earlier," the woman said. "Neddy gets a bit overexcited-"  
  
"No harm done," he said. "Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"That's French,isn't it?"  
  
"I do have French ancestry."  
  
The dead woman smiled."Maude Flanders. That's Frank,over there."  
  
"I'm not Frank,I'm Homer Simpson," said Frank,with an intense air.  
  
"You're not Homer Simpson," Dumbledore said. "I met Homer Simpson,  
  
and you're most assuredly not him."  
  
"Oh,RIGHT. You came out of his CASTLE. Did he feed you LOBSTER?"  
  
"No,actually. We had roast chicken. It was delicious."  
  
"So he's got YOU hoodwinked too."  
  
"Don't mind Frank," Maude said. "He's been like that awhile."  
  
Up the street,voices rang out.  
  
Harry was riding Bart's skateboard. Bart and Homer brought up the   
  
back. "You're doing great," Bart said.  
  
"It's my first time," Harry said,with a laugh that did Dumbledore's  
  
heart a world of good. "I'm used to much faster-"  
  
The board hit an uneven part of the street. He fell off the board,   
  
stumbled-  
  
Dumbledore caught Harry,becoming visible as he did so.  
  
"Professor," Harry said,grinning like he hadn't in months. "Did you  
  
see me?"  
  
"I certainly did,Harry. You were doing quite well."  
  
"Hey,Professor," Bart said, "I was just thinking. Would my board go  
  
any faster if it could fly?"  
  
"I'm sure it would," Dumbledore said. "But-"  
  
"Aw,c'mon,we wouldn't tell anyone," Homer said.  
  
"You wouldn't have to," Harry said. "The Ministry Of Magic tracks  
  
things like that-"  
  
"Oh,I don't know," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure Arthur will   
  
understand. I mean,if I enchant the board to fly,they'll assume   
  
that I must have had a very good reason,right?" He winked at Harry.  
  
Harry tried to smile.  
  
"Right,then. Bart,get on the board."  
  
Bart stepped onto the skateboard.   
  
"Now get a good start."  
  
Bart pushed off with his foot and away he went,down the street.  
  
Dumbledore pointed his wand at the board. He said words Harry  
  
didn't recognize; avior-something. Harry decided to ask later.  
  
"Whoa," Bart said as the board left the ground. Bart aimed the  
  
board towards the sky and he soared up and up until they could   
  
barely see him.  
  
"Hey,he's really up there," Homer said.  
  
"He's coming down," Harry said.  
  
At first,Harry thought Bart was screaming in terror. But as he closed  
  
the distance towards the ground,he knew that Bart was into the ride.  
  
There was a manic smile on his face as he swooped past them,zooming  
  
down the street as if he'd been born on that board.  
  
He came back,having managed to land the board on the sidewalk.  
  
"Oh,man,that was INTENSE."  
  
"That was brilliant,Bart," Harry said.  
  
"Of course it was," Bart said. He and Harry exchanged grins.  
  
Marge met them at the door. Homer pinned her against it and   
  
kissed her. Dumbledore and Harry managed to squeeze past them.  
  
When he let go,Homer went into the kitchen. "You want some beer,  
  
Professor?" he asked.  
  
"Not right now,Homer,thank you." He turned to Marge. "I wouldn't   
  
want to impose on you,but could I bathe,or take a thorough shower?"  
  
"Go right ahead. Upstairs,near the end of the hall."  
  
"I promise not to clog the drain," he said.   
  
Marge smiled.  
  
He studied the pictures on the wall as he headed up the stairs. As  
  
he did,he became aware of the music. In the upstairs hallway,he  
  
followed it to its source; Lisa's room. The girl,comfortably  
  
situated on her bed,was playing her saxophone. He tried to remember  
  
how old Lisa was...eight? Nine? Eight.   
  
In a moment,Lisa stopped playing.  
  
Dumbledore applauded politely.  
  
Lisa nearly fell off the bed.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," she said.   
  
"That was beautiful," he said,wiping a tear away."What was it?"  
  
"Just an improvisation."  
  
"I often wish we had a school band at Hogwarts. Alas, we don't.   
  
There is magic in music that you cannot just teach."  
  
"I could play something else for you."  
  
"Lisa,there's nothing I would rather do than sit down and listen  
  
to you play. However,I feel the need for a shower."  
  
"Oh. Well,okay. Will you come downstairs after?"  
  
"I suspect it's preferable to jumping out the window."  
  
"We could have milk and cookies." She thought. "Do you drink milk?"  
  
"Oh,yes. My teeth are a testament to that." He leaned closer to   
  
Lisa and showed her that he still had every one of his teeth.  
  
"Okay," she said. Then she did a most surprising thing; she kissed  
  
him on the cheek,then took off downstairs.  
  
He found the correct room without difficulty. It was a well-kept  
  
bathroom with the usual accessories. He closed the door.  
  
First, he removed his boots,then his socks. Dumbledore removed his   
  
robes,folded them neatly,and placed them on the sink. Then he He   
  
glanced in the mirror over the sink; for a man his age,he was in   
  
remarkably good shape. He still had all his hair. His shoulders   
  
were sturdy and wide,as was his chest; he was tall and thin,but   
  
not emaciated. As for everything out of the mirror's range,well,he   
  
had no complaints.   
  
He stepped into the shower,and drew the curtain. He put his hands  
  
together for a moment; when he separated them,a bar of soap rested  
  
in one cupped palm. He figured out which knob led to the cold water;  
  
when it hit him,he found it refreshing,but the hot water felt even  
  
better. He breathed in the steam. The water washed over him as he   
  
soaped himself all over; he failed to notice the shadow behind the   
  
curtain as it crept closer and closer until-  
  
The curtain flew aside.  
  
Alastor Moody was on the other side,grinning.  
  
"Evening,Albus. Is this a bad time?"  
  
"CAN'T AN OLD MAN HAVE SOME PRIVACY AROUND HERE?"  
  
Alastor laughed,and disappeared behind the curtains.  
  
A moment later,he parted them again.  
  
"Have you been working out?"  
  
He was splattered with water. Moody laughed,and ducked behind the  
  
curtain again.  
  
He handed Dumbledore a towel when he stepped out of the shower.  
  
"One of theirs?" he asked.  
  
"Nah. Used to be a brick I found in the street."  
  
Dumbledore wrapped it around his waist.   
  
Moody pointed his wand at Dumbledore and mumbled something. There   
  
was a warm wind and Dumbledore's hair was dry.  
  
"When did you arrive?"  
  
"Been walkin' around Springfield a while. Y'know,the fish near the  
  
nuclear plant have three eyes? Eh,you'll see 'em later. I wandered  
  
around aimlessly until I remembered Hagrid was here. I found the   
  
school and talked to the big guy and he told me ya might be here.  
  
Filled me in on the kid with the leprechaun and everything."  
  
Dumbledore transfigured the robes he'd worn into new robes; these   
  
were Gryffindor colors,gold with red trimming.  
  
"So you met the Simpsons,then?"  
  
"No,I burst in like gangbusters and killed 'em all. Of COURSE I   
  
introduced myself. D'ye think I'm a discourteous idiot?"  
  
"I would never accuse you of discourtesy."  
  
"On the way here,I ran into Professor McGonagall. She's downstairs,  
  
and she had a most extraordinary guy with her. Frink,I think."   
  
"That rhymed. Congratulations."  
  
"Right. Thanks."  
  
Dumbledore transfigured the old socks to new ones. Then he put  
  
his boots back on. He followed Moody downstairs.  
  
"Y'know,Snape had a portkey,too." Moody said.  
  
Dumbledore slapped himself across the forehead. "Who's guarding  
  
Hogwarts?"  
  
"Relax,Albus...the castle is well-guarded. In addition to the   
  
myriad of protective spells,there's the beautiful yet deadly   
  
trio of Professor Sprout,Poppy Pomfrey,Professor Sinistra,  
  
and Professor Vector."  
  
"That's four,Alastor."  
  
"Is it really? Well,I'll flagellate myself when we get back. And  
  
don't forget,the castle is full of teenagers whose magical   
  
abilities have been cultivated by the finest professors in the world.   
  
Flitwick is still there,remember." He paused. "Who's the Defense   
  
teacher this year?"  
  
"His name is Chillinger," Dumbledore said. "Good man. I don't know   
  
how long he'll last,though. He has...problems. You met him at the   
  
last staff meeting."  
  
"There are three of him."  
  
"Three of him?"  
  
"I'll tell you later."  
  
Minerva was seated at the kitchen table; she was smiling at Lisa,   
  
beside her. A man Dumbledore hadn't seen before sat slumped over   
  
the table,nursing a glass of water. Marge was washing glasses over   
  
the sink. Near her,Homer was drinking another beer. Maggie was in   
  
her high chair again,being licked by Snowball II and Santa's Little  
  
Helper. She was holding Fawkes with one tiny finger.  
  
Minerva looked up. "Albus-"  
  
"Evening,Minerva." He sat down. "When did you get here?"  
  
"Oh,Albus. I've been watching you since yesterday."  
  
"I see," he said. "Well,no wonder I've felt so safe."  
  
Minerva blushed,but also smiled.   
  
"I ran into Professor Frink. After you turned that man's hair white."  
  
"His hair turned white of its own accord."  
  
"What did you say to him?"  
  
"It doesn't matter now," he said.  
  
"I should think it does matter," she said.  
  
"Why?"  
  
She glanced at Lisa. "Oh...just in case I need to use it..."  
  
Lisa laughed.  
  
"May I sit down?" Moody asked.  
  
"Sure," Lisa said,and pulled out a chair next to Maggie.  
  
Moody sat down.  
  
"Much obliged,Miss Simpson. Or do yeh prefer Lisa?"  
  
"I love being called Miss Simpson," Lisa confessed.  
  
Moody rocked the table with his laughter.  
  
"And this lovely lass is undoubtedly Maggie."  
  
There was some sort of baby food in front of her.   
  
Moody shoveled some with a spoon. Then he fed it to Maggie.  
  
"She's not afraid of me," Moody said.   
  
"Maggie's fearless," Marge said.  
  
"It's just that most babies scream when they see me."  
  
"Why?" Lisa asked.  
  
"You don't find me frightening?"  
  
"You don't frighten me at all," Lisa said. "First, you're a   
  
teacher-a professor. Intellect doesn't frighten me. Second,  
  
after a lifetime of violence on television, I've become   
  
desensitized to fear."  
  
"Oh. Well,right then. You know Professor Frink,then?"  
  
"Our paths have crossed nurmreous times before,ga-hey."  
  
"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "Well-"  
  
From the front door came a knocking.  
  
The kitchen fell silent in a second.  
  
Everyone froze.  
  
Again,knocking. Short,sharp blows.  
  
"Jeez,I'll get it," Bart said.  
  
"Bart,don't." Harry said.  
  
"Don't worry,man."   
  
Most everyone followed him into the living room.  
  
Maggie stayed in her high chair. The animals around her had adopted  
  
defensive positions,protecting her on all sides.  
  
"I should have stopped him," Harry said. "I could have-"  
  
Dumbledore put a finger to his lips.  
  
"Shhhhh..."  
  
In the living room,Professors McGonagall and Moody had ushered   
  
everyone else upstairs-wands their wands out,unwavering,pointed at   
  
the door.   
  
Bart turned the doorknob.   
  
The door swung open.  
  
A dark shape stood on the other side.  
  
It stepped into the light.  
  
McGonagall put her wand down. Moody lingered for a second,and  
  
then did the same.  
  
"And who are you,young man?" Snape asked.  
  
"I'm Bart Simpson," Bart said. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
Harry would have given all the money in the vault at Gringotts   
  
to see Snape's face,but he was struggling not to lose his composure.  
  
Dumbledore was literally shaking with silent laughter.  
  
"Professor Severus Snape," said Snape. He swept past Bart. "I   
  
trust Professor Dumbledore is here?"  
  
Harry pulled Dumbledore to his feet.  
  
"Indeed I am,Severus." He stepped out of the kitchen,with a   
  
perfectly straight face.  
  
Snape nodded silently.   
  
Then something weird happened.  
  
Homer brushed Snape in passing.  
  
Snape jerked away from him, as if he'd been stung.  
  
"You must be hungry,Professor Snape," Marge said.  
  
"I wouldn't want to trouble you,ma'am."  
  
He stared hard at the back of Homer's neck.  
  
"It's no trouble."  
  
He followed her into the kitchen.  
  
"Please,sit down."  
  
"This ought to be good," Harry breathed.  
  
Professor Dumbledore heard him. "Just good?" he whispered.  
  
Marge pulled out a chair for Snape. He stared at her for a second,  
  
stared at the chair,and then sat down. Maggie shotgunned her   
  
pacifier. Snape focused his attention on Maggie.  
  
Snowball II hopped into Snape's lap and started to purr.  
  
"I-"  
  
"Well,now that we're all here..." said Dumbledore,trailing off.  
  
Dumbledore pulled a glass of water out of nothing. He drank some.  
  
Then: "Have any of you ever seen a film called ROBOT MONSTER?"  
  
"There've been so many robot monsters in my life,I can't tell   
  
real robot monsters apart from the fake ones," said Homer.  
  
"Well, I have. I actually saw it when it first came out.   
  
Supposedly, it was written in thirty minutes. The director tried   
  
to kill himself,but was unsuccessful. I'm just saying that this   
  
whole situation rivals the amount of planning that went into ROBOT   
  
MONSTER. Boggles my mind,really. I suppose Voldemort forgot   
  
whatever he was planning to do here,there's no other explanation."  
  
"Explanation for what?" Marge asked.  
  
"Marge...how do you feel about Ralph Wiggum?"  
  
"Ralph's a nice boy."  
  
"Would you say there's a bond between the two of you?"  
  
"I don't know...I suppose. I kind of sprayed him with mace a few  
  
weeks ago,but that was an accident."  
  
"All right...pardon this expository dialogue. Ralph may have   
  
natural pyrokinetic powers. Rather unfortunate,since he's also a   
  
pyromaniac.He's also attracted the attention of a leprechaun who   
  
keeps Ralph's powers unknown even to him by telling him to start   
  
fires on his own. Now, I don't know how they got it into their   
  
heads that Harry here was being replaced,since Harry is   
  
irreplaceable-" He nodded at Harry, who bowed his head with a   
  
gentle smile. "Professor Frink,I believe you know this next part."  
  
"The invisible guys from the government, mmm-hmm." Frink said.  
  
"Apparently,Death Eaters have infiltrated the Central Intelligence  
  
Agency," Dumbledore said. "But there's a problem. Professor Frink?"  
  
"Somehow,they became invisible. Of course, they can't see because   
  
the human eye needs light to reflect off of the cornea."  
  
"Interesting," Dumbledore said. "I'm never blind when I-oh,  
  
never mind,go on,Professor."  
  
They found me the other night,while I was testing an invention.   
  
Homer may or may not remember,as he was sloshed beyond all   
  
comprehension."  
  
"Hey,he's right." Homer said.  
  
"They triangulated my position and beat the holy crap out of me,"   
  
said Professor Frink. "They left me in a Dumpster,and that's where  
  
I met Professor McGonagall."  
  
"So now,there's only a matter of time before other surveillance   
  
people are installed," Snape said.  
  
"Professor," Harry said,"Does this have ANYTHING to do with me?"  
  
"No,Harry,it does not. As amazing as it may seem,they're not after  
  
you. They want Ralph Wiggum. He has telekinetic powers they could   
  
put to their own nefarious uses."   
  
"He's not safe," Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"Not as safe as he could be," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Could we bring Ralph and his family here?" Snape asked.  
  
"Chief Wiggum won't do that," Marge said. "Still,it is Ralph-"  
  
"This house is very secure," Dumbledore said.   
  
From the window, a new voice. "Oh. Yeah. Nice security. If I wasn't  
  
so fat I would be crawling through the window by now."  
  
He was an enormously fat man with a messy beard,dressed in a   
  
faded blue shirt. Hopefully,he was also wearing pants.  
  
"Do you know him,Lisa?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"Don't worry. He's with us."  
  
"I'm with myself," the Comic Book Guy said. "And let me just say  
  
that this situation is so reminiscent of Stephen King that it-"  
  
"How does our situation relate to Stephen King?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Oh,come ON. A kid named RALPH who has pyrokinetic powers that bad  
  
people want to use for their own? Ever heard of STORM OF THE   
  
CENTURY or FIRESTARTER?"  
  
"Sir,REALLY." Professor McGonagall said. "Whatever associations you   
  
may make are coincidental."  
  
"Worst coincidence EVER," he said,and left.  
  
Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at the window and mumbled  
  
something under her breath. "There. Now it's soundproof."  
  
"Alastor," Dumbledore said,"Go back to Hogwarts and inform the   
  
staff. This exchange program has yielded more than we thought it   
  
would."  
  
"Right," Professor Moody said.  
  
Dumbledore took a sip of water.  
  
Moody came back into the kitchen.  
  
"There was an envelope with my name on it," Moody said. "It's not  
  
where I left it."  
  
Lisa looked around the room.   
  
"Where's Bart?" she asked. 


	24. The Sorting Hat

25. THE SORTING HAT  
  
Set yer phasers on "disclaimer," people. I own nothing.  
  
Bart Simpson opened his eyes to an unfamiliar office. He had been  
  
in Skinner's office enough times to know which room it was. This  
  
was the Headmaster's office and it was beyond cool. He had never   
  
seen such a room. There were pictures all over the walls and the   
  
people in them were all snoring. Light shone through the windows;   
  
Bart had never seen the stars so bright.  
  
"Hello?" he called.   
  
Low,rumbling laughter answered him.  
  
It echoed through the room,above the snoring,above all the other   
  
tiny noises in the office. "Hey," Bart said. "Where are you?"  
  
"Why,you're not a student at all,are you? Not at Hogwarts,anyway."  
  
Bart stepped closer to the desk.   
  
"The Headmaster sent me," Bart said.  
  
"Oh,REALLY."  
  
He passed the desk. There was an empty perch,next to one of the   
  
bookshelves. It was obviously Fawkes's.  
  
"Yeah,totally."  
  
"Well," the voice said. "You must be a very special boy-"  
  
There was a hat on top of the bookshelf.  
  
Bart grabbed it,expecting something to be hiding underneath.  
  
"You little brat,you're lucky I don't have TEETH-"  
  
Bart felt his fingers sinking into an abyss-  
  
"Mrf. Garwfff-"  
  
Bart pulled his fingers out.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Take your fingers away from my mouth,young man."  
  
Bart turned the hat over. "Whooaaaa," he said.  
  
"I've been described in many ways. 'Whooaaaa' is a new one. Now,  
  
young man,who are you?"  
  
"Bart Simpson...sir."  
  
"Bart Simpson," said the hat,drawing his name out like a careful  
  
lexicographer.   
  
"Do you have a name?"  
  
"I'm commonly referred to as The Sorting Hat."  
  
"Oh. What do you sort?"  
  
"I sort the students into their houses. I sing a song at the   
  
start of the year,too. Would you like to hear this year's? Or  
  
next year's? I get a lot of time to compose, as you might guess."  
  
"Nah," Bart said.  
  
It frowned.  
  
"I'm guessing you're not a transfer student."  
  
"I'm from Springfield, Mr. Hat."  
  
"Ah yes,the exchange program. I was led to believe that Willy  
  
gentleman was the only one coming to Hogwarts. And kindly refrain   
  
from referring to me as Mr. Hat."  
  
"What should I call you?"  
  
"Why should you call me anything?"  
  
"It could be a matter of national security."  
  
"Whose security? Ours our yours?"  
  
"The whole world,hat-dude."   
  
Why should I believe you?"  
  
"Because it's...Hey...is that a balcony out there?"  
  
Bart gripped the hat by the top.   
  
"What are you doing? WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?"  
  
The balcony was spacious,with a brass railing running its   
  
circumfrence. The floor was made of marble. The view was   
  
beyond any words Bart could find. The lake shimmered in the   
  
moonlight. The trees in the forest whispered,caught by a long  
  
and gentle breeze.   
  
"Now,I'm going to ask nicely," Bart said. "Please help me."  
  
"What if I refuse?"  
  
Bart went to the railing. Then he thrust the hat into empty   
  
space. A wind picked up; the Hat flapped in the breeze like a flag. "I'll let go," he said.  
  
The hat growled something Bart didn't understand.   
  
"Fine,fine,I'll help you," it said.  
  
Bart pulled it away from the balcony.  
  
"Excellent," Bart said.   
  
Reluctantly,he went back inside.  
  
"Now," Bart said,"What-"  
  
There was a knock on the door.  
  
"Who the hell is that?" Bart whispered.  
  
"How should I know?"  
  
"What should we do?"  
  
"We? What do you mean,we?"  
  
"Headmaster?"  
  
The door swung open.  
  
Bart would have laughed at the little man who entered the room.   
  
Something told him not to; he was another professor,and the   
  
Headmaster seemed like he hired only the best.  
  
"Oh," Bart said. "Hey."  
  
Flitwick raised his eyebrows at the boy,who held the Sorting Hat  
  
under one arm. "Hey yourself,young man. I wasn't aware of any new  
  
students coming in."  
  
"I transferred."  
  
"From where?"  
  
Bart told him.  
  
"You know," Flitwick said,"I could easily overpower you and lock  
  
you in that closet,over there. It'd just be us and a bottle of   
  
Veritaserum."  
  
"You don't have to do that," the Hat said.  
  
He sighed. "Good. I hate that. Professor Filius Flitwick,I'll be   
  
your Charms professor. Of course, I'm sure you're no stranger to   
  
Charms."  
  
Bart shook his hand.   
  
"Where is the Headmaster?" Flitwick asked.  
  
"Looking for the Gatekeeper?"  
  
"A bit hard of hearing,are you? THE HEADMASTER. Big man? Tall,long   
  
silver beard and blue,twinkling eyes?"  
  
"Yeah," Bart said. "He had business."  
  
"Oh well," he said. "Let's go down and get you sorted."  
  
So he led Bart and the Hat out of the room. Bart couldn't  
  
help but gawk at the castle. He just managed to follow   
  
Flitwick down the maze of staircases,which wouldn't stay put.  
  
Bart wondered how these people put up with going to school in a   
  
deranged funhouse day after day.  
  
Eventually,they stopped in front of a set of tall doors. Flitwick  
  
pushed them open and stepped aside for Bart.   
  
The place was full of kids.  
  
"Wait," Bart said,"I'm going to be sorted in front of everybody?"  
  
"I assure you,it won't be humiliating,Bart."   
  
Attracting a few stares,they walked up to the front,where the  
  
teachers sat. There were a few empty chairs up there. There were  
  
still a few teachers up there; he tried to get a better look at   
  
them,but Flitwick slid a stool under Bart.   
  
No one even needed to call the kids to order. They were all   
  
eyeballing Bart with curiosity.  
  
Flitwick stepped onto the table.   
  
"Now,then,children,this week has certainly proved to be eventful.   
  
Not only are we participating in an exchange program with an   
  
American Muggle school,we also have a new student who just arrived.   
  
I'd like to introduce you all to Bart Simpson,newly transferred   
  
from-" he leaned towards Bart. "Where was that again?"  
  
Bart told him.  
  
"Right. Bart Simpson,newly transferred from the Bonerville Academy  
  
Of Magic. I'm sure he will make Hogwarts proud."   
  
He plopped the Hat onto Bart's head.  
  
*Bonerville?*  
  
*Best I could do on such short notice.*  
  
*oh my GOD.*  
  
*What is it? See something you don't like?*  
  
*You...I can't believe this. Oh,wait,now THIS is worse-*  
  
*Aaahahaa...*  
  
*I think you probably belong in Slytherin,but...I never thought  
  
this was possible...you're too BAD to be in Slytherin...*  
  
*Is Slytherin the bad house?*  
  
*Slytherin's are known for their cunning. Not neccessarily malice.  
  
Although you should see some of the kids they've got in there. I   
  
think I'll put you in-*  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!" 


	25. Nightlife

24. NIGHTLIFE  
  
I don't own any of these characters,of course.   
  
Oddly enough,no one had really been worried about Bart. Not even   
  
his own family. His parents had sort of smiled at each other and   
  
shrugged. Apparently, Bart kept their lives interesting.  
  
On the way back to Hagrid's hut,they discovered a baseball game   
  
going on, between the Springfield Isotopes and some other team   
  
whose name wasn't important enough to advertise on their uniforms.   
  
"Professor?" Harry asked.  
  
Professor Dumbledore turned to him,smiling. Professor McGonagall   
  
sat beside Dumbledore. Homer had accompanied them,and sat working   
  
on a can of Duff. He was still sober,though they were sure that   
  
wouldn't last long.  
  
"What is it,Harry?"  
  
"Is it safe being so close to the nuclear power plant?"  
  
"Well,direct exposure to radiation can be fatal. But I'm sure we're  
  
safe. We brought our own water. We're not staying long. We're   
  
prepared for emergencies."  
  
"Mr. Simpson said something about being sterile."  
  
Professor McGonagall glanced at Homer in disgust.  
  
"Well,he's lived here all his life, Potter," she said. She leaned   
  
close to his ear and whispered,"Which explains some things."  
  
Harry put a hand over his mouth,noting that Professor McGonagall   
  
was grinning.  
  
"Mr. Simpson?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you ever get sick from the radiation?"  
  
"Nah," Homer said. "I'm used to it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
On the field,the umpire called "Steeerike THREE!"  
  
The batter slunk back to the bench.  
  
"You guys don't play baseball in Europe,right?" Homer asked.  
  
"Well,no. There's cricket-"   
  
"Mmmm...cricket..."  
  
"But I play quidditch."  
  
"How do you like baseball?"  
  
"I understand it now. It's not that complicated."  
  
The next batter struck out.  
  
"This team needs Hagrid," Dumbledore said. "Can you imagine him up   
  
there?"  
  
"Have they gotten a hit yet?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"I think this pitcher has a no-hitter going," Dumbledore said.  
  
"You like baseball,Professor?" someone else asked.  
  
"I've seen a few games."  
  
He turned around and saw Edna Krabappel sitting a tier or two above   
  
them. "Mrs. Krabappel," he said,"What a pleasant surprise."  
  
"Seymour would be here,but he has a ton of paperwork to do."  
  
"I can sympathize."  
  
"Oh. So you DON'T do paperwork by magic. We were wondering."  
  
"I'm afraid not,Edna. May I call you Edna?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I read everything that comes across my desk."  
  
"Which includes messages from the Ministry Of Magic," Professor   
  
McGonagall said. She put on her best Cornelius Fudge voice:"Oh,  
  
Albus, I'm too weak to make decisions by myself. Please do my job   
  
for me."  
  
Mrs. Krabappel laughed. So did Harry.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said,through laughter. "I'm kept quite busy. Have  
  
you ever written with a quill,Edna?"  
  
She gasped. "You write with quills? I wish I could teach at   
  
Hogwarts."  
  
"Strike THREE!" the umpire yelled. Just like that,the game was   
  
over. The winning team mobbed the pitcher; it seemed that he really  
  
had pitched a no-hitter.   
  
"Well,Edna,I think we'll be going," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Oh. Could I walk with you? I feel restless."  
  
"Dad," said someone to Harry's right.  
  
The victorious pitcher scooped up the kid and they fell into the   
  
grass,laughing.  
  
Harry could only guess what it felt like.  
  
A hand fell on his shoulder.  
  
"Mr. Potter?"  
  
It was Professor McGonagall. He hoped she hadn't seen him watching.  
  
"I'll be at Hagrid's," Harry said.  
  
"Harry-"  
  
"I'll be fine."   
  
She let him go; he was surprised. This year,he could percieve a   
  
change in her. She looked at him differently,somehow.  
  
"Minerva?"  
  
Professor McGonagall bowed her head.  
  
"Yes,Albus?"  
  
"Are you ready?"  
  
"I'm ready."  
  
He slid his hands over her shoulders,pulling her to him.  
  
"He'll be fine," he said.   
  
For a long moment,she just let him hold her. He always had had   
  
strong hands.  
  
"I know," she said. "He's-" Say it. He's growing up.  
  
Mrs. Krabappel led them through the dark town, pointing out   
  
interesting areas. Homer hung back a bit, just strolling along. The  
  
streetlights cast shadows across the sidewalk. Dumbledore had   
  
visited the United States on numerous occasions; Springfield was a   
  
pleasant town,but he still preferred home. To tell the truth,he was  
  
beginning to miss it. But there was a situation that demanded his   
  
attention here. Besides,there was nothing stopping him from going   
  
back to Hogwarts,even if only for a few moments.  
  
He looked over at Minerva and smiled. Merlin,she looked beautiful   
  
tonight. She always did. She had worn that emerald dress; the only   
  
thing missing was her hat. He felt honored to be arm-in-arm with her. The fact   
  
that she was able to put up with him on a daily basis spoke of her  
  
great patience.   
  
"-and this is the Guilded Truffle,over here. Not that I can afford   
  
it-"  
  
A man came clumping out of the Truffle. Mrs. Krabappel saw him and   
  
blinked.  
  
"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Edna,may I introduce Alastor Moody.   
  
Alastor,Edna Krabappel."  
  
"Charmed," Moody said,and kissed her hand. "Albus. Minerva. There's  
  
somethin' in here you gotta see. You'll feel it first."  
  
Snape walked in the door and I thought the devil was after him,the   
  
way he ran out."  
  
"Where's Severus now?"  
  
Moody looked towards the alley.  
  
Snape appeared at its mouth. "I'm here," he said.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"I can't go back in there," Snape said. "I-Headmaster...please-"  
  
It may have been the first time Snape ever said PLEASE to anyone.   
  
"Of course," Dumbledore said,"There's a bench over there,Severus.   
  
Just sit down. Would you like me to stay with you?"  
  
"No. No, there's something in there you should see." Snape looked   
  
over at Mrs. Krabappel. "You don't need to see it."  
  
"Oh,really?" she asked. "Look,as a fellow teacher,I'm sure you can   
  
appreciate the things I see every day. Do you have any pukers,  
  
Professor?"  
  
"I'm sorry,ma'am...what,exactly is a 'puker'?"  
  
"You know, a kid who barfs at the drop of a hat."  
  
"Not even Longbottom does that," Snape muttered.  
  
"Well,I have one. His name is Wendell. When Willy's busy,I have to   
  
clean up Wendell's vomit. Once he vomited all this brown gunk all   
  
over Janie Grisham. I've also mopped up diarrhea,scraped used   
  
chewing gum off of the desks, and wiped away enough mucus to put in  
  
a request for a protective suit. So I think I can handle whatever's   
  
in there,Professor."  
  
Professor Snape said nothing more. He sat down on the bench.   
  
Homer sat across from him.  
  
Snape edged to the very end of the bench.  
  
By that time, Dumbledore had entered the Guilded Truffle.  
  
He had to take a deep breath. The restaurant was well-kept,   
  
intimate in candlelight.  
  
It was truly quite nice for a muggle establishment. But all around   
  
him,in the air,he could feel death in the air.  
  
He felt Minerva at his back.  
  
"Albus-"  
  
"I can feel it, too," he said.  
  
Edna looked around. "What is it?"  
  
"An aura," Dumbledore said. "Something awful happened here quite  
  
recently."  
  
The hostess came over. She was built like Professor Sprout. This   
  
woman,however, had lifeless red hair that hung in her face; Addie   
  
Sprout's hair was almost a separate,living entity. The hostess wore  
  
an enormously fake smile; her eyes told another story.  
  
"Table for two? You're in luck,our most romantic table is free-"  
  
He could feel Minerva blushing.  
  
"We're not here to eat," Dumbledore said. "Look..." he lowered his   
  
voice. "We are here to help you."  
  
"H-help us?"  
  
"We know something terrible happened here."  
  
"How do you...how do you know?"  
  
"I can feel it."  
  
"You're some kind of psychic,or something?"  
  
"Oh,yes,I'm very psychic," Dumbledore said. "Not that I need any   
  
powers to see that you're trembling."  
  
The hostess swallowed. "We called the police. But the cops in this   
  
town...I mean,they didn't even take the body."  
  
"The body is still here?"  
  
She led them into the kitchen.   
  
The man had been laid out on a long table in the middle of the   
  
kitchen. Dumbledore checked his wrist. "He was a Death Eater."  
  
"What's a Death Eater?" Edna asked.  
  
"A follower of Lord Voldemort," Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"Lord Voldemort?" Mrs. Krabappel gaped at the professors. "Who's   
  
Lord Voldemort?"  
  
"A former student of mine," Dumbledore said. "He used to be called   
  
Tom Riddle. Now he's pure evil. He's murdered people very dear to   
  
me. He murdered Harry's parents."  
  
"Harry has foiled his plans on a number of occasions," Professor   
  
McGonagall said. She smiled softly. "He's very special to me. Don't  
  
tell him I said that."  
  
"I won't,don't worry."  
  
"How did this man die?" Professor Dumbledore asked.  
  
The hostess shrugged. "He just got up and started thrashing around.  
  
He was turning blue,like he couldn't breathe."  
  
"Was he eating or drinking anything?"  
  
"Just water. The cops bagged the glass as evidence and never took it."   
  
"Did they take anything?"  
  
"Just his wallet."  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyes to the ceiling.  
  
"Could we see the glass?"  
  
"It's right there on the counter."  
  
The glass was inside a plastic bag. It was full of ice.  
  
The thing was that the counter was above one of the stoves. The   
  
surface was quite hot.   
  
"Why hasn't the ice melted?"   
  
"It was just water when I gave it to him."  
  
Dumbledore looked from the glass to the dead man.  
  
"What are you doing?" Alastor asked.  
  
"Poppy taught me a few things," Dumbledore said. "She studied   
  
pathology for a time."  
  
After a moment,he looked up.   
  
"I think you'll find ice blocking this man's esophagus."  
  
He turned to leave.  
  
"What should I do with him?" the hostess asked.  
  
"Try the hospital," said Mrs. Krabapple.  
  
Outside, Dumbledore put a hand on Snape's shoulder.  
  
"I know who did this," Snape said.  
  
"You do?"   
  
"Mother Shabubu," Snape whispered.  
  
"Mother who?" McGonagall asked.  
  
"You mean my cousin Frank?" Homer asked. "I mean,Francine?"  
  
Snape looked absolutely sick. "Mother Shabubu is your cousin?"  
  
"So my cousin Frank had a sex-change operation and formed a cult.   
  
Aren't we all entitled to-"  
  
"Mr. Simpson,let me enlighten you. Muggles have the boogeyman.   
  
Well, the Death Eaters get to tell their children that Mother   
  
Shabubu isn't hiding in their closets. You know how Death is   
  
usually pictured with a scythe? She borrows it for gardening   
  
purposes. You know Death's black cloak? Sometimes he lends it to   
  
her so she can go jogging. Voldemort has very few fears. He's   
  
afraid of the Headmaster. He's developed a phobia of Harry Potter.   
  
And he is so petrified of Mother Shabubu that speaking her name is   
  
punishable by death."  
  
"Is that why you're afraid of me?"  
  
"I'm not afraid of you," Snape said. "I just can't touch you   
  
because when I do,I can see her. She is the Mother. The Eater of   
  
Death Eaters. And she is here."  
  
"Haven't seen Francine in a long time," Homer said.   
  
Hagrid was sitting on the front steps of the school.  
  
He looked rather melancholy.  
  
"Trouble,Hagrid?"  
  
"Harry. He's over by the swings."  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"E's just sad,sir."  
  
"Sad?" Snape sounded unconvinced.  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," McGonagall said. "Human   
  
emotions,I mean."  
  
"Oh,right. I forgot,without his fan club,he's emotionally-"  
  
"You mean his friends,don't you? Friendship? Another concept that   
  
escapes you."  
  
"Why is he so sad?" Mrs. Krabappel asked. "I mean,his parents,  
  
of course-"  
  
"There are a number of reasons," Dumbledore said. "Much weighs on   
  
his thoughts. He blames himself-"  
  
"I blame him," Snape muttered.   
  
"You seem to be the only one,Severus."  
  
Snape shut his mouth.  
  
"Jus' let him be," Hagrid said. "He'll be all right. 'E's in a dark  
  
place,but he'll be all right."  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I've been searchin' for Fang. He got out, and he ain't back yet."  
  
"Fang never runs far," Dumbledore said. "Wherever you are,there he is."  
  
"I should probably go," Edna Krabappel said. "If I see any unfamiliar  
  
dogs-he is a dog,right?"  
  
"Yep. Were yeh thinkin' he's a dragon?"  
  
"I was. But he's a dog?"  
  
"E's a dog. Bloody coward,but he's faithful."  
  
"See you tomorrow," she said.  
  
"See yeh," Hagrid said.  
  
She left.  
  
"I guess I should get some sleep," Hagrid said. "What time is it?"  
  
Dumbledore checked his bizarre watch. "Not even ten o'clock. The   
  
night's still young,Hagrid."  
  
"Would yeh like some tea?"  
  
"Tea sounds lovely," Professor McGonagall said.  
  
They found Hermione Granger sitting on the steps of Hagrid's hut.  
  
She held a wet cloth against her left eye.   
  
Snape stayed back. The other three immediately went to her.  
  
"Miss Granger?"  
  
"Yeh all right,Hermione?"  
  
"Have you injured yourself?"  
  
Hermione looked up at them. "Someone just attacked me. He's in the   
  
hut,Hagrid."  
  
"E's in the hut?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Right."  
  
"I'll kill 'im." Hagrid said. "Well,in a minute." He bent down in   
  
front of Hermione and pulled her into the gentlest hug he had ever   
  
given anyone.  
  
"My head hurts," Hermione said.  
  
Dumbledore and McGonagall sat down on either side of her.  
  
She was surrounded by the three people she knew would never hurt her.  
  
"What happened,Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Someone was in Hagrid's hut," she said. "I surprised him. He...  
  
tried to strangle me-"   
  
"No," Professor Dumbledore said.  
  
"Yes," Hermione said,and then the professors were hugging her.   
  
Professor Dumbledore actually kissed her forehead.   
  
"Everything happened so fast. I opened the door, and then...I   
  
broke a teapot over his head,Hagrid,I'm sorry."  
  
Hagrid just laughed. "I'll get another teapot."  
  
"There's really no need for the fuss," she said. "I'm all right."  
  
"We're so very glad," Professor McGonagall said.   
  
"I don't know what we'd do if we lost you,my dear," Dumbledore said.  
  
He made a hesitant move towards the cloth. "May I see it?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
Gently,he removed the cloth from her eye.  
  
Professor McGonagall made a tch-ing sound. A pair of tears slid   
  
down Hagrid's cheeks.  
  
"I'm afraid you have quite a bruise,Miss Granger."  
  
"I wanted to help," Hermione said. "Now I just want my cat."  
  
She wrapped her arms around Dumbledore's neck.  
  
"I will personally escort you to the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore   
  
said.  
  
"How did you get here?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"I went to the Headmaster's office,but you weren't there. What I   
  
had to tell you couldn't wait,so I plucked a strand of your hair   
  
off of your chair and wrapped it around one of your books. Then I   
  
turned it into a portkey and it brought me here."  
  
Hagrid looked impressed.  
  
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said,"that was-"  
  
"Ingenious," Dumbledore said.   
  
"It sure was,Hermione. Now,'scuse me."   
  
He opened the door and disappeared inside the hut.  
  
"Now what is it you have to tell me?"  
  
"There's a spy posing as a student,Headmaster. He says his name is   
  
Bart Simpson, transferred from the Bonerville Academy Of Magic...  
  
well,I looked up Bonerville-"  
  
Something crashed inside the hut. Hagrid yelled something   
  
unintelligible.  
  
"Rest easy,my dear. Bart is on our side."  
  
"There's something else," she said.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I can't get my wand to work. I tried making a fire,but nothing   
  
happened."  
  
Professor Snape clapped himself across the forehead. "I should   
  
have anticipated-"  
  
"What happened,Severus?"  
  
"I showed the dueling club how to affect a focus. Miss Granger,I'm   
  
afraid your powers have been transferred."  
  
"Transferred? To who?"  
  
"To your...oh,no..."  
  
"That fool groundskeeper. He's in full possession of Miss Granger's   
  
abilities.Although,without a wand-"   
  
Snape's eyes got as big as bludgers. "Oh my," he said. "Longbottom."  
  
"Draco and I transferred our abilities to Willy and Neville?"  
  
"Oh," Professor McGonagall said. "Joy."  
  
Behind them. "Hermione?"  
  
Harry stood there.   
  
"I should've been there," he said. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Harry. You know I'm perfectly capable of defending myself.   
  
Besides,you should see the other guy."  
  
His alarmed expression melted into a grin.  
  
"Who is the other guy?" he asked.  
  
The door opened. A man flew out of the house; he hit the grass   
  
face-first, skidded a bit,and lay motionless.   
  
Hagrid appeared in the doorway.   
  
"Yeh know,I feel better. All right,Harry?"  
  
"All right,Hagrid. I feel sleepy."  
  
"C'mon in,then. Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"I'm taking Miss Granger to see Madame Pomfrey,Hagrid. I'll be back  
  
as soon as I know something." He took Hermione by the hand.   
  
Professor McGonagall followed. He escorted them behind the hut and   
  
they didn't come back.  
  
Hagrid sat on the step.   
  
"She'll be all right,Hagrid," Harry said,sitting besid him.  
  
"Yeh. Hermione's tough. Yeh know,of all the kids at Hogwarts,I know  
  
her the best. Besides you,o'course. No matter how tough she is,  
  
she's still so sweet-"  
  
"Right,right..."  
  
"Just seein' her does me good. Brightens th' worst days, yeh know?"  
  
"She loves you,Hagrid."  
  
Hagrid blushed.  
  
"I mean...you know what I mean."  
  
"I know what yeh mean,Harry," he said. "I feel the same way."  
  
"Anyone who doesn't like you can blow a toad. Blow up a toad,  
  
excuse me."  
  
"Yeh mean,make a toad explode."  
  
Harry laughed. A moment later,Hagrid joined in.   
  
When they were done laughing,Harry gestured to the man in the   
  
grass.  
  
"So who is he?  
  
"All yeh need ta know," Hagrid said,"is that his ass is grass and I  
  
am the lawnmower."  
  
Harry gaped at him.  
  
"Jus' somethin' I heard in the hall today."  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Pretty late,probably."  
  
Harry yawned. He put his head on Hagrid's shoulder.  
  
In minutes,he was asleep.  
  
Hagrid picked him up and carried him inside.  
  
He laid Harry down on the enormous bed. Then he took Harry's   
  
glasses and put them on the table nearby. He could sleep in the   
  
chair. First,though,he covered Harry with the blanket he and Addie   
  
and the others had enchanted. "'Night,Harry," he said.  
  
He sat on the bed,to comfort Harry in case he had a nightmare. As   
  
far as he could tell,Harry did not dream at all.  
  
In a while,someone knocked on the door.  
  
Hagrid opened it to see Professor Dumbledore.  
  
He stepped inside.  
  
"He's sleeping."  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"Hermione will be fine."  
  
Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
"My feelings exactly," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Did yeh see Fang?"  
  
"I did not. Don't worry,Hagrid. He'll come back."  
  
Professor Dumbledore sat in the chair,next to the bed.  
  
"If you'd like the chair-"  
  
"Nah, I'm jus' fine,sir."  
  
Harry opened his eyes.  
  
He noticed Dumbledore,and wondered if he were really there. It's   
  
like that,between sleep and waking.  
  
"Do you sleep?"  
  
Maybe he said it out loud. Then again,perhaps not.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes were twin half-moons.  
  
He saw them behind his eyes when he fell asleep. 


	26. An Hour With Neville

25. AN HOUR WITH NEVILLE  
  
I own none of these characters except for Professor Chillinger,  
  
who can also be found in my fic "Dadaism."  
  
Also,the rating is now R,just in case.   
  
"Nijinsky. He was from my village. He was the village idiot."  
  
"Yeah,what'd you do? Place?"  
  
-LOVE AND DEATH  
  
60:00:00  
  
"Ne-ville..."  
  
Neville Longbottom opened his eyes.  
  
He drew back the curtain.  
  
The room was absolutely dark.   
  
"Ne-ville..."  
  
The voice was high and whispery.  
  
"Ever...eaten...worms...Ne-ville?"  
  
He whimpered,drawing his knees into his chest.  
  
"Insects...they're quite...crunchy...flies...are filled with...  
  
guts...I love 'em..."  
  
The other guys were probably asleep. Including the new kid,whose   
  
name Neville couldn't quite remember. Bert? Bort? He had known  
  
a few Borts,but-  
  
"Ne-"  
  
"Please stop calling me," Neville whispered.  
  
"-ville..."  
  
A shadow appeared on the other side of the bed curtains.  
  
Neville threw his shoe at it.  
  
"Ow. Bloody hell,Neville..."   
  
The curtain drew back,revealing Ron Weasley.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Who were you talking to,Neville?"  
  
"You didn't hear anything?"  
  
"Was I supposed to hear something?"  
  
"Someone was calling me."  
  
"I didn't hear anything."  
  
"Oh,no...I'm hearing voices. I don't...Ron,what are you doing up?"  
  
Ron held Trevor out to him. The toad flopped down onto the bed.   
  
"Trevor decided my head makes a nice pillow."  
  
"Oh...sorry."  
  
"Don't be sorry,it's better than having Hermione's cat on my face-"  
  
"Ne-ville..."  
  
Ron stopped in midsentence.  
  
"Did you hear that? You heard that,didn't you?"  
  
"I heard-"  
  
Ron went to the window and opened it.  
  
A soft,warm wind blew into the room.  
  
"What's out there?"   
  
"I don't see anything," Ron said.  
  
Ron climbed out the window,onto the balcony.  
  
He went to the railing,and looked out at the expanse of   
  
grass,which seemed to run forever.  
  
There was someone out there,sitting in the grass.  
  
"There's somebody down there," he told Neville. He headed for the   
  
portrait.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I'm going to investigate. If you'd like to come along-"  
  
"I'm not staying here," Neville said,jumping out of bed.  
  
"In that case," Ron said. He went over to Harry's bed.  
  
Harry wasn't in bed. Hedwig was sleeping peacefully on her perch.   
  
"Neville,you have to swear you won't tell anyone about this..."  
  
"Are you looking for Harry's invisibility cloak?"  
  
Ron stiffened.  
  
"Don't look so surprised,Ron. Everyone knows about Harry's cloak.   
  
It's one of the worst-kept secrets at Hogwarts. We just pretend not  
  
to know because...well,I forget why,actually..."  
  
Ron found the cloak,and threw it over himself and Neville.  
  
"So we're invisible now?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"No one can see us?"  
  
"That's the best part of being invisible."  
  
"Have you ever gone into the girls' showers like this?"  
  
"No,but you know-"  
  
"You're sure none of the teachers can see us?"  
  
"The only one who's ever seen us is the Headmaster."  
  
As if on cue,Professor Dumbledore stepped through the portrait.  
  
55:00  
  
"Ah. Hello,gentlemen."  
  
He looked rather amused.   
  
"Am I interrupting some covert mission?"  
  
"It's hard to explain,sir."  
  
"That's all right. I wanted to talk to the two of you. Come down to  
  
the common room,I brought some hot chocolate with me."  
  
They followed him down to the common room. He pulled three chairs   
  
in front of the fireplace. Dumbledore sat,and then the boys did the  
  
same.  
  
50:00  
  
In the glow of the fire,Dumbledore looked ancient and powerful.   
  
He handed a mug full of steaming mocha to Neville,then gave the   
  
other to Ron. He had his own,as well.  
  
"Now,then. Neville,may I ask you a question?"  
  
It was best to be patient with Neville Longbottom. He was   
  
forgetful-but not stupid.  
  
"All right," Neville said.  
  
"Are you experiencing anything...out of the ordinary?"  
  
Neville looked relieved yet terrified. "Well,sir..." he gathered   
  
his courage."I'm hearing voices. Well, a voice."  
  
Dumbledore looked concerned. "What does it say, Mr. Longbottom?"  
  
"It just keeps calling my name. And...asking me if I eat   
  
insects..."  
  
"And-"  
  
"Just a moment,Mr. Weasley. Neville,other than the voice,do you   
  
feel ill?"  
  
"I feel fine," Neville said,beginning to panic. "Why? Am I sick?"  
  
Dumbledore put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No," he said,in a   
  
firm but gentle voice. "Now have a drink."  
  
Neville took a long swig.  
  
"Better?"  
  
Neville nodded.  
  
"Do you remember dueling club?"  
  
"It'd be hard to forget knocking Professor Snape on his arse," Ron   
  
muttered. "Sorry."  
  
"No apologies neccessary,Mr. Weasley. Neville,can you remember the   
  
focus?"  
  
"Hermione and Malfoy...and me...we channeled our powers through   
  
the groundskeeper. I can't remember his name."  
  
"Willy," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Willy."  
  
"Exactly. Five points,Mr. Longbottom."  
  
"Sir,does the points system even matter anymore?" Ron asked.  
  
"Ron, shut up."  
  
"No,that is quite a valid question. The point system is a time-  
  
honored tradition,Mr. Weasley. Even if it seems trivial. I agree,   
  
there are times when such a thing as house points seem pointless   
  
and silly. Five points for asking."  
  
Ron grinned.  
  
Dumbledore took a deep drink. "Now,then,where was I? Ah. Yes. When   
  
you, Hermione,Draco and Marcus performed the focus with Willy,  
  
they may have transferred their powers to you. Miss Granger has  
  
told me that she is unable to perform magic. I have not spoken  
  
with Mr. Malfoy or Mr. Flint yet."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes. I can only speculate that this is why you're hearing a voice.  
  
Now, Ron, I I wished to speak to you,because-"  
  
"Where is Harry?" Ron asked.  
  
"He's in Springfield."  
  
"He's visiting Hagrid?"  
  
"Yes,but that's not why he went."   
  
"What-"  
  
"The less you know the better," Dumbledore said. "Although,I have   
  
no doubt you'll find out,Mr. Weasley. I'm glad Harry has such   
  
faithful friends."  
  
"How would I find out?"  
  
"That,I cannot tell you,Mr. Weasley. However,I can tell you that a   
  
student from Springfield has arrived at Hogwarts."  
  
"Really? Who?"  
  
"Bart Simpson."  
  
"Bart Simpson? You mean there's no Bonerville?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "I'm afraid not."  
  
"Well,where is he?"  
  
"He's been hiding behind that chair,over there. Come out, Mr.   
  
Simpson."  
  
Bart came out from his hiding place.  
  
"Don't worry,Bart,you're in no trouble." Dumbledore raised a   
  
finger. "At least not yet."  
  
Bart came out from his hiding place.  
  
"I'm not in trouble?"  
  
"No," Dumbledore said.  
  
"That's a first."  
  
"Have you two ever noticed I never give out detentions?"  
  
"That's right," Ron said. "You don't. But I served a detention with  
  
you last month."  
  
"As I remember,you helped me stamp documents for an hour."  
  
"Right. I fed Fawkes,too. It was the best detention ever."  
  
"Was Professor Snape mad about the portkey?" Bart asked.  
  
"Professor Snape is always mad," Ron said,and Dumbledore stifled a   
  
chuckle; Ron had something else to say. "You said you wanted to   
  
talk to me?"  
  
"Yes,Ron. I thought you should know that Hermione is in the   
  
hospital wing."  
  
Ron's eyes got huge. "She's all right,isn't she?"  
  
"Madame Pomfrey says she's just fine."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Never mind that. Hermione asked for you."  
  
"Can I go now?"  
  
"In a moment."  
  
Ron remembered something. "Professor,I saw someone outside."  
  
"From the window?"  
  
"Right. I couldn't tell who it was. They were just standing on the   
  
lawn."  
  
"Curious," Dumbledore said. "Definitely a matter warranting further  
  
investigation. Boys, follow me. You won't need the cloak."  
  
"What cloak?" Bart asked.  
  
"Harry's cloak," Ron said,showing Bart. "His dad's old Invisibility  
  
Cloak."  
  
Bart practically drooled. "That thing makes you invisible?"   
  
"Oh,yeah," Ron said,smiling.  
  
"What about you,Professor?"  
  
"I don't need a cloak,Bart."  
  
"Cool," Bart said.  
  
"That's what your mother said."  
  
40:00  
  
There was a cat sitting near Hermione,who sat fully awake in the   
  
bed. She was reading a book by candlelight. The cat nudged her   
  
with its head when they walked in. Then the cat changed into   
  
Professor McGonagall.  
  
Ron grinned. "I never get tired of seeing that."   
  
"Why thank you,Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. "Evening,  
  
Albus. I assume all the gentlemen have excellent excuses for   
  
being out of bed?"  
  
"Stealth mission," Bart said,and Neville offered a fervent nod.  
  
"Well,then," she said. "Miss Granger,just leave the book on my desk."  
  
"All right," Hermione said. "Thank you,Professor."  
  
McGonagall nodded.  
  
"Mr. Weasley,escort her back to Gryffindor Tower when  
  
she's ready. Madame Pomfrey gave her permission to leave."  
  
With that,she joined the group at the door.  
  
"Mr. Weasley..."   
  
"Yes,Headmaster?"  
  
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."  
  
Ron nodded slowly. "Right," he said.  
  
35:00  
  
"Willy?" Bart called. "Hey,Willy."  
  
"Is he awake?"   
  
"His eyes are open," McGonagall said.   
  
Trevor hopped onto Willy's shoulder.  
  
"Gaaaaaughh!"   
  
Whatever spell Willy had been under had been broken.  
  
"'ose TOAD is this?" he raged.  
  
"Mine,sir." Neville said.  
  
Then Willy noticed where he was.  
  
"How'd I get out here?" he asked. "Yer the one they call Neville,  
  
eh?"  
  
"R-right," Neville said,looking terrified.  
  
"Eh,no reason bein' scared a'me."  
  
"But everyone says you're a nutcase," Neville said.  
  
Bart snorted a laugh. Professor McGonagall had to turn around.  
  
"Oh,great," Willy said,seeing Bart.  
  
"Do you remember how you got here,Willy?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"I don't remember nothin'," he said. "There was a draught,an'   
  
I went ta close the window...saw the wind blowin' through the   
  
trees in the forest...s'like it was callin' me...someone get this   
  
toad offa me-"  
  
Trevor hopped off of Willy and kind of hung out in the grass.   
  
Dumbledore was nearest. He hopped into the wizard's hands. Trevor  
  
offered a ribbit,and his front legs cycled up and down.   
  
A feeling spread through Dumbledore's hands. It was the warm,  
  
tingly feeling of someone else's magic spreading through his   
  
fingers. Usually,it was a very personal thing,exchanged by the   
  
closest of friends; it happened nearly every time he held Minerva   
  
close.  
  
He swayed on his feet for a moment.  
  
Trevor squirmed. The toad desperately fought to get away from him.  
  
Dumbledore let him down onto the grass.  
  
Trevor sat still. Then he began to grow.   
  
Neville began to worry when the toad was bigger than he was.  
  
"Uh...Professor?"  
  
"I was afraid of this," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Afraid of WHAT?"  
  
"He better stop," Willy said.  
  
The thing was that Trevor did not stop growing.  
  
Willy took off,and Bart yelled "Wait for me..."   
  
Dumbledore took Neville by the arm. He felt Minerva slip one arm   
  
around his.   
  
"Wait,what's happening to Trevor?" Neville said, trying to  
  
look back as they ran.  
  
"I'll explain," Dumbledore said. You wouldn't think someone as old   
  
as Dumbledore could run, but he was in excellent shape.  
  
Trevor hopped after them.  
  
"This way," Dumbledore called. Neville saw that they were heading   
  
for the greenhouses.  
  
The first one was lit up.  
  
The Headmaster pounded on the door.  
  
A figure,blurred behind the heat-misted window,appeared on the   
  
other side of the door. A moment passed,and then the door burst   
  
open.  
  
"Neville?"  
  
"Professor Sprout," Neville yelled,"Please,let us in-"  
  
"Nonsense," she said,stepping outside. "Now what is the matter?"   
  
She smirked."Well,other than being out past curfew-"  
  
"RRREEEEEEP..."  
  
Trevor, now as tall as a five-story building, came around the side   
  
of the castle.  
  
"Just when I think I've seen everything..." said Professor   
  
McGonagall.  
  
"Oh my," said Professor Sprout. "This is certainly new. How did it   
  
happen?"  
  
Neville looked sad. "I don't know what happened."  
  
"Mr. Longbottom," she said,her eyes wide. "Did you do this?"  
  
"I don't know," Neville said.   
  
Trevor captured a cloud of flies with his tongue, which snapped  
  
like a bullwhip.  
  
"Trevor seems to be having a wonderful time. Has he been growing   
  
steadily?"  
  
"He's still growing," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Longbottom,it seems   
  
that Trevor usurped those powers during the focus, not you."  
  
"But whose voice am I hearing?"  
  
"You're hearing voices?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
Professor Sprout put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Just one voice," he said. "Oh,wait...Headmaster...it's TREVOR'S   
  
voice,isn't it?"  
  
"He is your familiar," Dumbledore said. "He probably wants to talk   
  
to you."  
  
"Can we get him back to normal,sir?"  
  
"We certainly can,Neville."  
  
"Please don't hurt him."   
  
"Mr. Longbottom, I'd rather not hurt Trevor,either. But I don't   
  
want him to harm anyone,or God forbid, eat anybody. Besides,   
  
we must do another transference. It's not Trevor worrying me,it's   
  
you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"We have to transfer the magic inside Trevor into someone close to   
  
him," McGonagall said. "That would be you,Neville."  
  
"Do you think I could handle all that power?"  
  
The three wizards,wiser than Neville knew he'd ever be, looked down   
  
at him.   
  
They were letting him make the choice.   
  
They were actually letting him decide.  
  
"We believe in you,Neville," Professor Sprout said. "The question   
  
is,do you?"  
  
"I-"  
  
"GURRRR-RRRURPP..."  
  
Somewhere above, a nightbird cried.  
  
Trevor looked up, and searched for the bird.  
  
"I believe," Neville said.  
  
"Right," Professor Dumbledore said. "Neville, whatever happens...  
  
don't be afraid."  
  
With that,Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stepped   
  
into Trevor's path.  
  
Trevor's attention wandered to the two of them.  
  
His eyes began to glow.  
  
"Ready?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"No," Dumbledore said. "But let's do it anyway."  
  
Twin beams of golden energy blasted out of Trevor's eyes; if   
  
Professor Dumbledore hadn't flicked his wrist at the moment he did,  
  
he would have wound up on an ice bed in the burn ward at St.   
  
Mungo's, in need of more skin grafts than he could survive. His   
  
wand acted like a lightning rod,and he could feel Minerva doing   
  
the same; he didn't dare break his concentration. After all,he   
  
supposed he had a reputation to uphold, and he would not be   
  
defeated by a giant killer frog-  
  
-unexpectedly, the heat fell away.  
  
For a moment, he could not speak.   
  
Minerva looked like she'd gone out for a leisurely jog.  
  
"You were wonderful," she said. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I am," he said. "You?"  
  
"Fine," she said,almost whispering. "Just fine."  
  
Trevor hopped past them,his normal size restored.  
  
"Trevor," Neville said.  
  
Professor Sprout laughed. She picked Trevor up and kissed him.  
  
"Gross," Bart said.  
  
"Can't believe ya did that," Willy said.  
  
"Don't tell me you've never kissed a frog before," Sprout said.  
  
"Come with us to the staffroom,would you,Addie?"  
  
"We're having a meeting?"  
  
"We certainly are."  
  
He offered his arm. Professor Sprout took it. Minerva took hold of   
  
the other one.  
  
Oh,how he loved his job.  
  
20:00  
  
The only staff members who weren't at the meeting were Hagrid and   
  
Professor Snape.  
  
At first, Dumbledore wondered where Snape could be,and then it   
  
came to him. He was most likely interrogating Miss Granger's   
  
attacker. Better Snape than Hagrid.  
  
Snape did not have an emotional attachment to Hermione; Hagrid, of   
  
course, loved her. But his other colleagues had come, even Alastor.   
  
Who'd been in Springfield when the meeting had been called. None   
  
of them looked like they'd been sleeping,not even the current   
  
Defense teacher, Ishmael Chillinger, who needed three chairs  
  
because he had run across a sorceress who also happened to be a  
  
devout student of Sigmund Freud; she split him into three.   
  
  
  
The three identical Chillingers sat together. One of them was his   
  
id. One of them was his ego. The last one was his superego.  
  
He was not an old man, but his faces were worn; none of the had aged   
  
well. Nowhere was this more evident than their eyes. They were full   
  
of knowledge, but of things they wished they could forget. Despite   
  
this,he was able to reach the students. Their presence seemed to be   
  
healing for him.   
  
Seated beside the Chillingers was Professor Trelawney. She was   
  
cleaning her glasses. Dumbledore had had a dream a day or two ago;   
  
Sibyl had been in it,and her lenses had liquefied. Her retinas   
  
detached and floated around,buoyant like fresh ice cubes. It   
  
was things like this that made his life interesting. Next to   
  
Trelawney was Professor Binns,who wouldn't have been able to sit   
  
down anyway. There was Professor Vector, who had a thousand reasons  
  
at the ready justifying the use of mathematics in magic. Next to   
  
her was Professor Sinistra, an empty chair where Severus would   
  
have been, then Madame Hooch, Madame Pomfrey, Professor Flitwick-  
  
who was making a raggedy doll waltz in the air with graceful swish-  
  
and-flick motions. Another empty chair-a huge one-for  
  
Hagrid,then Professor Moody, Professor Sprout, Minerva, and   
  
finally himself. They were a tightly knit group; at least it  
  
felt that way to Dumbledore. He considered them all close friends.  
  
Willy was not there,but Neville Longbottom and   
  
Bart Simpson were. The professors were rather curious as to their   
  
presence,but did not complain.   
  
"Well,I'd like to thank everyone for coming at such short notice,"  
  
Dumbledore said.  
  
"Is there some sort of an emergency?" Filius asked."I  
  
mean,besides the gigantic toad I saw rumbling past my window?"  
  
"The toad problem is being remedied," Dumbledore said. "The reason  
  
I've called you all together is in regards to the exchange program."  
  
"Hagrid IS coming back on Monday,right?" Professor Sprout asked.  
  
"That's right,Madame."  
  
There were sighs of relief all around.  
  
"I rather like Willy," Professor Sinistra said. "He made a terrible  
  
first impression,but...I think he's adjusted quite well,for a   
  
Muggle suddenly thrust into our world. He repaired one of my models   
  
of the solar system yesterday-"  
  
"Somethin' wrong with Uranus?" Moody asked.  
  
She smiled right back at him."I take special care of it to avoid   
  
jokes like that."  
  
Professor Sprout covered her mouth,attempting not to laugh.  
  
"Well," Dumbledore said,"I'll let Hagrid know he's missed. Now,  
  
as for Neville Longbottom's presence at this meeting...you may  
  
notice a change in him in the very near future. This is because  
  
his toad Trevor has absorbed the magical abilities of Hermione   
  
Granger,Draco Malfoy, Marcus Flint, and Neville himself. Neville   
  
has bravely volunteered to recieve what Trevor has borrowed."  
  
"Very brave,Neville." Flitwick said.  
  
Various "mm-hmms" and sounds of approval went around the table.  
  
"Wait for us in the common room,Neville." Dumbledore said.  
  
Neville nodded,and then left the room.  
  
"Now...the main reason for this meeting. By now you know we have a  
  
new student by the name of Bart Simpson,who transferred here from  
  
the Bonerville Academy Of Magic. Well,I'm afraid it's just an  
  
entertaining acronym. Not only is there no magical academy-  
  
Bonerville does not exist. He's actually from Springfield."  
  
"You lied to me," Flitwick said.  
  
"Sorry," Bart said.  
  
"Bart may be here for a few days. He will attend classes,and it  
  
is vitally important that it appears he is a student of magic. He  
  
will be watching for anyone he recognizes from Springfield,in  
  
the event that they attempt to breach Hogwarts."  
  
"But if he's a muggle," Poppy Pomfrey said,"Why doesn't he see  
  
Hogwarts as all muggles see it?"  
  
"What should it look like to me?" Bart asked.  
  
"A wreck,dear," Sprout said.  
  
"Bart has magic in his family," Dumbledore said. "I'd rather not   
  
reveal her identity-"  
  
*Bart*  
  
Bart blinked.  
  
"-but Bart does have a relation with abilities he could,  
  
concievably,inherit."  
  
*If you can hear me,scratch your head*  
  
Bart scratched his head.  
  
*Don't worry,my boy, it's only me, Professor Dumbledore. I had a  
  
suspicion you might have other abilities. How long have you been  
  
able to hear people's thoughts?*  
  
"As for the situation in Springfield-"  
  
Bart didn't know what to do. Professor Dumbledore was talking  
  
to everyone,and sending him thoughts at the same time.  
  
*As I thought. You're not a sender,but you are a reciever. You  
  
can't hear everyone's thoughts all the time,which would be   
  
deafening,but sometimes you can-   
  
"-it's incredibly complicated. In fact, it is so needlessly   
  
labyrinthine-"  
  
*one of my favorite words,labyrinthine. I'll get out of your   
  
head now,before our heads start to hurt.*  
  
"-that I find it hard to believe that those involved are aware of   
  
their involvement. Of course,it could be the perfect plan,  
  
hiding behind a haze of incomprehensibility, but that's the thing   
  
about nonsense-it makes its own kind of sense-"  
  
"Before you go on..." the middle Chillinger began. His voice sent   
  
a ripple through the room. He had a deep,dark voice. "I just think   
  
you should know that there there are students hiding in the closet  
  
behind you.   
  
"The closet?" the third Chillinger said. "I highly doubt that."  
  
The first Chillinger looked towards the closet. "Who's in there?"  
  
he asked,his voice shaking.   
  
"I'm surprised Professor Moody said nothing." the middle one said.  
  
"Do I have to do everything?" Moody asked.  
  
"I almost forgot," Dumbledore said.  
  
He opened the door to reveal Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.  
  
"You've heard everything so far?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Ron's jaw kind of swung open.  
  
"Everything," Hermione said.  
  
"Good."  
  
He handed her a lemon drop. "Mind your hair," he said,and closed   
  
the door."Now then,a visual aid."  
  
With a wave of his wand,the room darkened.  
  
From his robes, he produced a crystalline sphere. He tossed it  
  
into the air,and it hung there like a balloon. A bluish glow  
  
filled the room, and Springfield unfolded before them all.  
  
"This is Springfield, the town participating in the exchange   
  
program. Now,in this town is a boy named Ralph Wiggum-"  
  
The scene shifted to Ralph Wiggum, who was fast asleep.  
  
"Why is he wearing rubber pajamas?" Professor Trelawney asked.   
  
Attention shifted to Madame Pomfrey.  
  
"You don't want to know," she said.   
  
"Ralph is in second grade at Springfield Elementary. He's an  
  
eight-year-old with the gift of pyrokinesis. However, he has come   
  
under the influence of a leprechaun-"  
  
"A leprechaun?" Madame Pomfrey asked. "You're kidding."  
  
"I wish I were,Poppy. This leprechaun is very disgruntled,and  
  
he influences Ralph to start fires naturally,without his ability.  
  
Which is actually a good thing,because Springfield has been  
  
under surveillance for some time."  
  
"By who?" Chillinger asked.  
  
"Guess," Moody said.  
  
"What would Voldemort want with Springfield?"   
  
"He only wants Ralph," Dumbledore said. "The thing is that   
  
the Death Eaters who managed to get themselves into positions of  
  
power have complicated things to the point where everything  
  
is rather difficult to follow. If there was some sort of plan,  
  
it's a total mess now. So,the task at hand is to protect Ralph  
  
and the citizens of Springfield and flush out anything that  
  
shouldn't be there. I'm going back there."  
  
"If you need any help..." Madame Hooch said.  
  
"Thank you for the offer,Ilsa. Everyone here should just teach  
  
their regular classes. I will be fine. If something does happen  
  
to me, none of you should have to share my peril. Besides,Hagrid  
  
will be with me. And so will Mr. Potter."  
  
"Is that why he wasn't at practice today?" Madame Hooch asked.  
  
"He is assisting me in Springfield. I assure you, he'll make up  
  
any work he has missed."  
  
"How is Harry?" Sinistra asked.   
  
"That's a complicated question," Dumbledore said.   
  
"He's doing fine in his classes, isn't he?" Minerva asked.   
  
Nods around the table.  
  
"He has much on his mind," Dumbledore said.   
  
"I think he's handling it better than any of us could,"   
  
said Sprout.  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
Bart would remember it.   
  
"You know,there's something that's been bothering me," the  
  
middle Chillinger said.  
  
"Can't quite decide what it is," Chillinger Three said.  
  
"Everything," Chillinger one said. "You all make me want to SCREAM-"  
  
"Do be quiet,would you?" Chillinger Two said. "The thing on my  
  
mind...how did they hear about us?"  
  
"Principal Skinner said that his his superior-Chalmers,I believe,  
  
is his name-contacted a number of European schools in the hope   
  
of starting an exchange program. The Ministry went over my head  
  
and accepted. I'll ask Skinner how he found us,next time I see him."  
  
10:00  
  
"Shhh..."  
  
Minerva looked over her shoulder,one finger at her lips.  
  
Dumbledore nodded silently,then joined her.  
  
Neville was asleep by the fire. Trevor was in his lap. The  
  
toad was also asleep.  
  
"Should we do this while he's sleeping?"  
  
"We could write him a note," Dumbledore said.  
  
"When was the last time we wrote a note together?"  
  
"Far too long," he said.  
  
He slid his arms around her waist.  
  
"Are you going back tonight?"  
  
"Yes," he said. "Would you like to accompany me?"  
  
"I would."  
  
They stared down at Neville.  
  
"I hope this doesn't turn him into some sort of psychic monster."  
  
"It won't," Dumbledore said. "Neville is...well,I think he'll  
  
be just fine,Minerva."  
  
She looked from Neville to him,and back again.  
  
Albus began murmuring; as he did,he pointed his wand at Neville.  
  
She joined in in a second,and extended her wand.  
  
Neville never felt a thing.  
  
0:00  
  
"-sleeping."  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"How is she?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Hermione will be fine. Madame Pomfrey treated her eye."  
  
Hagrid looked relieved.   
  
"My feelings exactly," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Did yeh see Fang?"  
  
"I did not. Don't worry,Hagrid. He'll come back."  
  
Professor Dumbledore sat against the wall,next to the bed.  
  
"If yeh'd like the chair-"  
  
"No," he said. "I'm comfortable right here."  
  
Harry opened his eyes. He wasn't quite awake.  
  
"Do you sleep?"  
  
He was asleep again in an instant.  
  
"You gave him the blanket," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Yeah," Hagrid said. "'E's been dreamin'."  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"That'll be Professor McGonagall,Hagrid."  
  
Hagrid stood up and let her in.  
  
"I made some cakes," he said. "Would yeh like some?"  
  
"I'm really not hungry,Hagrid."  
  
She settled down next to Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"I'll be back in a bit," Hagrid said.   
  
He opened the door and left.  
  
"Fang," Dumbledore explained.  
  
Minerva nodded. She looked over at Harry.  
  
"He looks peaceful," she said. "Is that the blanket we enchanted?"  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
Dumbledore slid his hands into hers.  
  
"This is the way I wish it could be," he said.   
  
"I do,too," she said.  
  
He moved to kiss her cheek.  
  
She turned her head,and their lips met.  
  
Time lost all meaning.  
  
Harry woke up,cold beads of sweat dotting his forehead.   
  
"He's here," said Harry,his eyes wide and tense. "He's here.   
  
He's here. He's-"  
  
Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore were instantly   
  
at his side,rocking him back and forth. "Shhhhh..."  
  
"Harry,everything is-"  
  
"-here. He's HERE."  
  
------------------------------------  
  
"Hey,buddy. End of the line."  
  
The bus driver's name was not important. Tomorrow,when the  
  
coroner cut him open and found that he'd died of natural  
  
causes,his name appeared in the SPRINGFIELD SHOPPER obituaries,  
  
the victim of an atrocious typographical error which listed him  
  
as Aaaaargh Bleaaauurgh Mwaaahblooogh,which appeared just under a   
  
woman whose surname was now Grrrrrrrr and another man who was   
  
now known as Tootsie Pop Lesniak.  
  
"Hey,buddy-"  
  
The bus driver sighed, stepped out of the driver's seat, and   
  
looked towards the back of the bus,which was lit by fluorescent  
  
bulbs that ran along the ceiling. A fuzzy haze hung over the   
  
seats and the windows. Darkness surrounded the bus,as if they  
  
were traveling through space.  
  
There was someone at the very back,lying with his face to the   
  
rear wall.  
  
"Hey,I'm talkin'-"  
  
"I need to rest."  
  
The voice was so cold,the driver swore the windows near the   
  
back of the bus misted over.  
  
"There's a shelter not far from here."  
  
"I'm perfectly comfortable right here."  
  
"Don't make me call the cops."  
  
The man stirred.  
  
He turned over. Without sitting up,he looked at the driver.  
  
"Guh-guh...God," the driver stuttered. "Oh my God-"  
  
"God?" the...man...said. "Lately,I've been wondering if God   
  
exists. Sometimes,I think he's disowned the human race and the  
  
entire universe is just an extension of Hell..."  
  
"What-" he fought the vomit rising in his throat. "What happened-"  
  
"Blood," the thing in the seat said.   
  
"Blood?"  
  
"Blood," he said. He almost looked sad. "Harry Potter's blood-"  
  
"Who's Harry Potter?"  
  
"Never mind. I've talked long enough."  
  
Voldemort grabbed the driver on either side of his head.  
  
The fluorescent lights along the ceiling flickered.  
  
In a moment, the only one on the bus was the driver.  
  
"Damn you,Dumbledore," he said,and sighed.   
  
It sounded like a death rattle.  
  
Voldemort closed his eyes.  
  
The lights went out. 


	27. Snape and Hagrid

26. SNAPE AND HAGRID  
  
I own none of these characters.  
  
He regained consciousness in complete darkness. He knew his   
  
eyes were open,but he could see nothing.  
  
Before he opened his eyes,he recalled the last thing he'd seen-  
  
a very angry man. A very big,angry man with whom he had not  
  
been friends. The enormous hands of the big,angry man. He didn't   
  
remember much else. His head throbbed.  
  
He felt broken.  
  
He raised his head.  
  
The blackness was torn away from him. A mask,he thought.  
  
First, he realized that he was bound to a chair. At least he  
  
felt like he was; he couldn't see any ropes. Second, he noted   
  
that he was in the middle of a huge dark room. Moonlight poured  
  
through the windows in the ceiling.  
  
Third:  
  
The giant man,sitting in the shadows of the retractable bleachers.  
  
With that beard,he could have been a Viking. Yeah, he felt pillaged,  
  
all right. By a huge,hairy, hopefully not horny Viking.  
  
The giant man moved. It was like watching a mountain shift.   
  
"Yer awake," he said. "Professor, 'e's awake."  
  
Footsteps echoed through the dark gymnasium.  
  
"Good." He recognized the voice. "Very good. Now would be a good   
  
time to leave."  
  
"Nah."  
  
"Severus, listen to me-"  
  
Snape patted Lucius Malfoy on the shoulder."I'm afraid you'll be   
  
doing the listening,Lucius. Interrupt me,and I'll pull your   
  
tongue out. I'm not in the mood for any of your games. I'm now an  
  
insensitive, humorless-Hagrid,aren't I the most inconsiderate   
  
human being you've ever met?"  
  
"Oh,yeah," Hagrid said. "Yer the worst man I know,Professor."  
  
"Thank you,Hagrid,that was well said. Bloody brilliant,as Weasley   
  
might say."  
  
"I don't know anything," Malfoy said. "Look, the Granger girl-"  
  
"We used to be Death Eaters,Lucius. You know you can't lie to me."  
  
"Are we still friends?" Lucius asked.  
  
"I'd rather stick my head up a horse's ass than associate with you."  
  
"That answer yer question?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Torturing and killing innocent people was second nature to us. I   
  
killed more women and children than I could count,and I loved it.   
  
You might say I developed a taste for it,particularly the torture-"  
  
"I still can't figure out how you got a teaching job. "Oh,wait,  
  
yes I can. Bleeding Dumbledore-"  
  
Snape ignored that.  
  
"I admit, for awhile,I dearly loved doing the things I did. The   
  
other Death Eaters were afraid of me. I didn't mind; they   
  
held me in higher esteem than I ever held myself.They saw something  
  
in me I never could. But then,I came to realize that I couldn't  
  
continue with that life. I never expected to be given a chance to  
  
start again-"  
  
"By Dumbledore. Severus Aleister Snape, Dumbledore's-  
  
"Yer middle name is Aleister?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Snape-"  
  
Snape nodded. "I came quite close to being named Alistair."  
  
"SNAPE-"  
  
"Alistair," Hagrid said. "Good name."  
  
"What's your middle name?"  
  
"Don't have one," Hagrid said. "Giants don't believe in 'em."  
  
"SNAPE!"  
  
Snape knelt down in front of Lucius. He removed a pair of wires  
  
from his pocket.  
  
"Exactly. Even now, the people with whom I work...they have   
  
confidence in me. Sometimes,I don't understand why. I used to be   
  
able to laugh. Then I met you and Voldemort's jolly junior pirates.  
  
I haven't laughed in years. I used to know some real gut-busters,  
  
but I've lost the will for joking. So believe me when I  
  
say that if you don't tell us what we want to know,I'll hurt you.   
  
We are the teachers. You are the student. You will tell us   
  
everything you know. The alternative is torture. It will be slow.   
  
It will be quite methodical. It will be thorough. Most of   
  
all,it will be the most...intimate...experience either of us will   
  
ever have. If you survive,I will ensure you will feel pain with   
  
every breath you have left and every step you walk for the rest of   
  
your life. You know how...carried away...I can get."  
  
He touched the wires together.   
  
Corrosive sparks flew everywhere.  
  
"I think we'll start with some radical surgery on your testicles."  
  
"By radical,d'yeh mean you'll just make stuff up as yeh go?"  
  
"Precisely,Hagrid."  
  
"Listen to me, Granger wouldn't have suffered-I did not want to  
  
hit her-"  
  
"Yeah," Hagrid said,standing up. "Yeh look real broken up 'bout it."  
  
"It would have been quick,but she had to fight back."  
  
His words were nothing. The enormous man was upon him and he  
  
couldn't help babbling.  
  
"I didn't know what to do-I just-"  
  
Hagrid wrapped his hands around the collar of Lucius's shirt and  
  
lifted him up-chair and all-an inch away from his face.   
  
"Shut yer mouth, yeh great pathetic-"  
  
"Careful,Hagrid." Snape said.  
  
Hagrid didn't let go of the guy,but he did pause, staring into  
  
their captive's eyes with frightening intensity. Snape had never  
  
been afraid of Hagrid, even when he was a student. Right now,  
  
though, he would not want to be Lucius Malfoy. And when   
  
Hagrid spoke next, it was the deepest voice Snape had ever heard.   
  
It made his bones vibrate. "Didn't even think twice 'bout stranglin'  
  
her, I bet. That girl...she's like the daughter I never had...yer  
  
lucky,yeh are..."  
  
"I've heard what giants do to people. I read that article Rita   
  
Skeeter wrote. Albus Dumbledore really must be senile,allowing you   
  
near children-"  
  
Hagrid growled.  
  
Snape was glad his bladder was empty.  
  
"Everything yeh've heard 'bout giants, yer maid prob'ly read to yeh-"  
  
He lifted the man in the chair over his head and brought it   
  
crashing down against the floor.  
  
"You've been watching professional wrestling," Snape said.  
  
"Oh,yeah," Hagrid said. "Chokeslam's a real stopper."  
  
He knelt over Malfoy. "Now," he said,"Apologize."  
  
Instead of speaking,their prisoner laughed. He laughed until  
  
he started to choke.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"You did that to Karkaroff..."  
  
"You've seen Karkaroff?"  
  
"He said this one introduced him to a tree after he insulted   
  
Dumbledore.You still want me to ap-"  
  
Hagrid pulled him up off of the floor, chair and all.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "Yeh still better apologize. One,for insulting  
  
the Headmaster. Two,for...Professor,what exactly did he say?"  
  
"He implied you shouldn't be allowed near children. Which is  
  
definite grounds for a sincere apology."  
  
"You don't fool me. The both of you were in Azkaban. I don't think   
  
they'd mess with you,big guy,but..."  
  
he looked over at Snape. "-whose bitch were you in Azkaban?"  
  
"In Azkaban, everyone was a bitch. The Dementors were ravenous."  
  
"Have you ever seen a Dementor without a robe? I have."  
  
"Disgusting," Snape said.  
  
"YOU,of all people, find ME reprehensible?"  
  
"Extremely," said Snape. "I'm considering leaving you alone with  
  
Hagrid. He truly does want to hurt you."  
  
"He already hurt me."  
  
"Good," Snape said.   
  
"I tell you,the Granger girl wouldn't have suffered. Just one  
  
name to cross off of the list-"  
  
"What list?"  
  
"Blast it. I shouldn't have said that."  
  
"What list, Lucius?"  
  
"We have an extensive pool. Hermione Granger figures prominently."  
  
"Why?" Hagrid asked. "Why d'yeh-"  
  
He frowned,figuring it out.  
  
"Because she's Muggle-born," he said.  
  
"Congratulations," Lucius said.  
  
"Where is this list?" Snape asked.It's here,isn't it?" Snape   
  
asked. "A list of MuggleWhat kind of a list is it? Tell me or I'll do things that would   
  
make Andrei Chikatilo-"  
  
"It's a death pool," Lucius said.  
  
Hagrid scowled.  
  
"So,if I were to look in your pockets,one of the things I'd find   
  
would be a list of children-"  
  
"Not just kids,teachers,too."  
  
"-who are most likely to die in the near future."  
  
"We concentrated on the muggle-borns."  
  
Snape pointed his wand at Malfoy.  
  
"Accio," he said.   
  
A piece of paper flew out of Malfoy's left pants pocket.  
  
Snape caught it,unfolded it,and examined it.  
  
His eyes flicked from the paper to Malfoy.  
  
"My name is on this list," Snape said, in a voice that  
  
regularly turned his students to jelly.  
  
"Oh,yes. Most of them,we cast runes to select. But you're an  
  
obvious choice. There's more than one list. You and Granger are on   
  
all of them."  
  
"Who has the others?"  
  
"Whoever else is involved. I don't know them. I know our   
  
Springfield contact has one."  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"Someone native to Springfield is involved with Voldemort?"  
  
"Everything's a shambles. It's hard to say what's really going   
  
on..."  
  
"What about Ralph Wiggum?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"The Dark Lord had his eye on Ralph Wiggum. I know nothing else."  
  
"You've been quite helpful, in spite of all the confusion."  
  
"Have I? Is there anything else I can do?"  
  
"That'll do," Snape said. Then he took something out of one  
  
of his pockets.   
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It's called a tape recorder," Snape said. "The Ministry's going  
  
to be very interested in its contents,I think. They'll be even  
  
more interested in you. I hope they bury you in a nameless grave  
  
next to a sewage treatment plant."   
  
He waved his wand.  
  
One of Malfoy's arms sprang up.   
  
"How are you going to get-"  
  
Snape slapped the tape recorder into his hand.  
  
"How are you going to get me to the Ministry of Mag-"  
  
He vanished in midsentence.   
  
"Let's go," Snape said. "I need some air."  
  
----------  
  
It was still a beautiful night. The stars were out. They weren't  
  
nearly as clear as they were over Hogwarts,but the fact that   
  
they were there was comforting. Snape leaned against the slide,  
  
and glanced down at Hagrid,who had stretched out in the grass.  
  
"Hagrid?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"May I ask a personal question?"  
  
Hagrid nodded. His eyes seemed as deep as the universe. "Go ahead."  
  
"Do you regret not graduating?"  
  
Hagrid thought for a moment.  
  
"Nah," he said.  
  
"Then...if you could live your life over again-"  
  
"Wouldn't change nothin'. 'Cept,my mom and dad'd live longer."  
  
"You miss them, don't you?"  
  
"I...yeah. I miss 'em. But yeh know,I'm glad they didn't 'ave to see  
  
me expelled. Woulda broken his heart."  
  
"I never knew my father."  
  
"Yeh didn't?"  
  
"My mother raised me. She tried, at least. I wasn't the greatest  
  
son. You remember me when I was at school?"  
  
Hagrid sat up.  
  
"I remember yeh. Curious,real smart-"  
  
"I was a loner. I listened to a lot of heavy metal.  
  
"Metal,huh?"  
  
"Oh,Europe is full of metal...Czechs are maniacs when it comes to  
  
grindcore. You can't throw a stone in some towns without hitting a  
  
band. I think music is what got me through school...then,going   
  
home,I'd stay out of my mother's way all summer.The closest thing   
  
I've ever had to a father is...Professor Dumbledore. Don't tell him I said that."  
  
"I won't say nothin'."  
  
Snape sat beside Hagrid. The grass felt soft.  
  
"He knew the things I'd done...and...what Lucius said was  
  
the truth,Hagrid...the Headmaster was well aware that I was a   
  
murderer and he welcomed me."  
  
"Great man,Dumbledore."  
  
"I have done things for which there's no hope of redemption."  
  
"I believe yeh'll find it yet."  
  
"If there is a Hell...I'm going to burn, Hagrid. I appreciate your   
  
optimism on the part of my character...the truth is,I don't deserve  
  
your friendship-"  
  
"Yeh got it anyway,wether yeh like it or not."  
  
"...thank you."  
  
"For awhile,yeh were immersed in darkness. Everybody's got a dark   
  
side. Nothin' wrong with that. But yeh've got something good in   
  
yeh,overpowers the dark,even if yeh don't want it to. I see it.   
  
Professor Dumbledore sees it. Yeh'll find it. I know yeh will."  
  
"Do you believe that?"  
  
"I believe it. And I'm not gonna give up on yeh. I'm willing   
  
to wait."  
  
An airplane sailed over their heads. They watched its lights   
  
fade into the night.  
  
"Ever been on one of those?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Why ride in a plane when you can just jump on a broom?"  
  
"Right, right..."  
  
"Wasn't there supposed to be a lunar eclipse this week?"  
  
"Was there?"  
  
"I don't remember," he said. Then a question occurred to him.  
  
"Whatever happened to Madame Maxime?"  
  
"Olympe? Why do yeh bring her up?"  
  
"Come now,Hagrid, it did everyone good to see you two together."  
  
"She wasn' attracted to me," Hagrid said.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because she...well, she...how can I say this..."  
  
"She's stark staring mad?"  
  
Hagrid chuckled. "She's not into men."  
  
"...oh. Well-"  
  
"Yeah," Hagrid said,laughing again. "Took me enough time ta find out."  
  
"Sprout-"  
  
"Sprout's different. She's got this...what's the word..."  
  
"It doesn't matter what the word is. Look, you're possibly  
  
the kindest being I have ever known. You take excellent care  
  
of the grounds. You love animals and children,and they adore you.  
  
Sometimes I...envy you."  
  
"Draco Malfoy hates me."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy hates everybody. Gets it from his father."  
  
"Yeah,that's true."  
  
It got quiet again.  
  
Somewhere in the silence,Snape said "Karkaroff..."  
  
"Could be worse," Hagrid said.  
  
"How?"  
  
"Gilderoy Lockhart."  
  
"Oh," Snape said,putting a hand to his forehead. "Yes,I suppose.  
  
He just had a new one published."  
  
"What,DIDDLING WITH DEMONS?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"MOANING WITH MINOTAURS,then? SCREAMING AT SKIN-EATERS?"  
  
"No," he said,allowing the corner of his mouth to curl upward."It's-"  
  
A dog began barking; the echo traveled.  
  
Hagrid got to his feet.   
  
"Fang?" he called. "FANG-"  
  
"Doesn't sound like Fang."  
  
The barking turned into a long,baying howl.  
  
"That doesn't even sound like a normal dog," Snape said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Wolves," Snape said. "Werewolves." 


	28. Lucius And Narcissa

31. LUCIUS AND NARCISSA  
  
The usual disclaimers apply here. These people don't belong to me.  
  
This chapter's rated R...  
  
Lucius woke up in front of the computer. It was on,and he seemed  
  
to have been typing unconsciously. He didn't recognize the language.  
  
Wherever he was,it certainly didn't look like the Ministry. It was   
  
a rathole of a motel room.   
  
Narcissa was lying on the bed, as drunk as he'd ever seen   
  
her. On a good night,she could drink nine or ten hardcore   
  
alcoholics under the table. Lucius had often wished she would just   
  
drink herself to death. Cirrhosis of the liver couldn't be that   
  
hard to contract if you really tried,could it?   
  
Lucius sat hunched in front of the computer. He didn't quite   
  
understand everything about electronics,but he was certainly   
  
learning. The Dark Lord had always been notoriously computer   
  
illiterate; the last time Lucius had seen him,he had expressed  
  
an interest in getting wired. Or whatever the expression was.  
  
The problem was that the Internet...well,there certainly were   
  
a lot of people who used it to enhance their carnal knowledge.  
  
Lucius had become one of them; instead of leading Voldemort  
  
into a new age of electronic domination, he had become addicted to   
  
Internet porn. Nott had lent him his email address: nott_here@hotmail.com,  
  
and it was full of messages with subject heads like "Pound Her  
  
Senseless With Your Huge Joystick" and "Cheerleaders At Your Door!"  
  
It had been used against him,of course. Every single picture he'd  
  
downloaded was scrutinized; it helped them lock him up and throw  
  
away the key.  
  
"What're you doing, Lucius?"   
  
"You wouldn't understand," Lucius said.  
  
Narcissa took a long swig of whatever she was drinking. He could  
  
smell it from clear across the room.  
  
"Y'don't love me anymore," she said. It was an accusation Lucius   
  
had heard a lot. He wondered if it were true. In   
  
Azkaban, the dementors had not taken all Lucius's memories of her-  
  
because they were all rather awful. He stayed sane by visualizing   
  
her death. Blown up, crucified upside down, shot in the belly, shot in the head,  
  
shot in the foot,which led to a fatal gangrene infestation, death   
  
by the good old cruciatis curse, eaten alive by trained insects, eaten from the   
  
inside out by a ravenous fetus monster, defenestrated, eviscerated, vivisected,  
  
drawn and quartered, thrown into a vat of sulfuric acid, beaten to death-  
  
the list just went on and on. He had been tempted to just adava   
  
kedavra her and then himself.  
  
He couldn't follow Voldemort anymore, his ego would not allow it. Someone like Nott,   
  
he was basically a coward, a yes-man extraordinaire. He still bore the Dark Mark,  
  
as did Lucius.  
  
  
  
He didn't know how many of the other Death Eaters felt that way.  
  
"Luchus," Narcissa slurred,flopping back on the bed,which was  
  
vibrating in an ominous manner. "Come here. I need a good laugh."  
  
Then she burped.  
  
"Had enough to drink?" he asked,eyes on the computer screen.  
  
"Not hardly," she said. "Tell me a story,Lucius. You remember   
  
when we were students,and Sirius Black...he was-"  
  
"What about Sirius Black?"  
  
"How'd he turn your arse into a portkey?"  
  
"I'd rather not talk about it." He closed his eyes,trying not to remember.  
  
"Better your arse than your-" She lost herself in drunken giggles.   
  
"I should do it...turn your John Thomas and his little friends into  
  
a portkey...then I'd wind up on a beach in the bleedin' Bahamas   
  
every time you want suckety-suck-"  
  
"SHUT up."  
  
"Don't tell ME to shut up," She wavered onto her feet. "I'm the   
  
one who never-"  
  
"Narcissa,I REALLY think-"  
  
"Who do you THINK you ARE, KERMIT THE BLEEDIN' FROG?!"  
  
He got out of the chair,picked it up,and threw it across the   
  
room. It missed her by a mile,and sailed into the bathroom.  
  
"I'll be outside," he said. "You'd best be sober when I come back."  
  
He slammed the door on the way out.   
  
A moment later,a pipe in the bathroom burst.  
  
The Sleep-Eazy Motel was a dump.  
  
Of course,the sign out front was malfunctioning,and  
  
read SLEAZY,which suited the place. He stared down at the motel  
  
pool; there were firefighters down there,trying to assist  
  
one of the motel guests, as he'd become stuck in the filter.   
  
"Enjoying the show, Lucius?"  
  
Lucius didn't turn. He knew Voldemort would be standing  
  
just out of the reach of the lamp spilling dusty light onto  
  
the walkway.   
  
"Narcissa certainly sounds blended," he said.  
  
"Narcissa's working through some things."  
  
"She's sick of being who she is," Voldemort said.   
  
"What am I doing here?"  
  
"You were on your way to the Ministry Of Magic. I interrupted the  
  
portkey."  
  
"I had a tape recorder-"  
  
Lucius finally looked towards the shadow.  
  
"Come into the light," he said, not at all because he had seen  
  
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST for the first time a while ago. Draco found  
  
him sobbing like a baby,and had not spoken to him since.  
  
With a slight hesitation, Voldemort moved into the light.  
  
Lucius had a look at him. Then he turned away, leaned over  
  
the railing,and splattered the ground floor with vomit.  
  
"Do I really look so awful?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"Your...FACE-"  
  
"It's only skin," Voldemort said. "Shedding it-"  
  
"Has anyone else seen you?"  
  
"Just a bus driver," Voldemort said. "I used his body, Lucius. He died on me   
  
a few blocks back...I had to walk the rest of the way like this..."   
  
"The last time I saw you, you didn't look like that."  
  
"Potter's blood did this to me. Took its time,it did."  
  
"Potter," Lucius spat. "He's taken away your body again."  
  
"More than that,Lucius. Much more than that. You weren't  
  
there when I developed blood clots in my legs...I couldn't  
  
go to a hospital because they thought I had leprosy...and  
  
then I figured it out...bloody Dumbledore. I'll bet he knew  
  
this would happen. I'm still thinking about what he said last  
  
year..."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"What's worse than death,Lucius?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"THAT'S what I told HIM. I suspect Wormtail had something to  
  
do with this...he gave part of himself to resurrect me...trouble   
  
is, I think he may have been ill..."  
  
"Pettigrew? I don't understand."  
  
"Do you know how long he spent as a rat?"  
  
"Years. He penetrated the Weasleys-"  
  
"He did not penetrate the bleeding Weasleys. Penetrate,Lucius?  
  
All that pornography's turning you into a degenerate. Go to a   
  
museum. When was the last time you saw a film or read a book? I  
  
used to go to plenty of films, back when I could be seen in public."  
  
"When was that?"  
  
"Years and years ago."  
  
"But-"  
  
"He didn't find out a blessed thing, Lucius."  
  
"Well,he was an idiot."  
  
"YOU'RE an idiot. The BEST KIND of idiot-A RICH idiot. I wonder how stupid Pettigrew   
  
really is. After all, he spent all those years as a rat and I can't help thinking   
  
he was exposed to all sorts of things."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying I think I may be infected with bubonic plague."  
  
"You're serious?"  
  
"Look at me,Lucius. If my skin wasn't so pustulent, I might tell you a joke."  
  
"But bubonic plague-"  
  
"I came here to warn you," he said. "Once,I had designs on this  
  
town. Those plans are in ruins. I still have a plan,though. And  
  
I need you."  
  
"Why are you telling me this?" Lucius asked.  
  
"It's either you or Draco."  
  
"Stay away from him."  
  
"He wants what you had. I know you know that. He seeks power.  
  
All he has to do...is ask."  
  
"Why do you need me?"  
  
Voldemort grabbed him on either side of his head.  
  
"This way, you can't get out of town," he said.  
  
---  
  
He stood there for a long time. Finally, in the pool below,there was a noise; the   
  
unmistakable sound of extreme resistance to suction. The sound of my life, Lucius  
  
thought. The sound of a dark empire crumbling, like some strange version of the  
  
Arthurian canon.  
  
Then,inside his head,another thought,not his own.   
  
My empire is at hand,Lucius. It's far from crumbling.  
  
"Well,back to Guinevere," Lucius said. He wondered who  
  
Lancelot could possibly be. It certainly wasn't him. It definitely wasn't  
  
Voldemort.  
  
"My Lord,if I offered you my wife-"  
  
"No,Lucius," Voldemort said. "Do you know how many people rogered your wife  
  
while you were rotting in Azkaban?"  
  
They reached the room.  
  
"They started calling her Doorknob Malfoy-"  
  
A puddle of water had collected under the doorframe.  
  
"What-"  
  
The door creaked and cracked as it bulged outwards.  
  
Lucius backed away,but the door burst open and a   
  
torrent of water sent him,Voldemort and all, over the railing. As he   
  
went over,he could see the contents of the room-a drawer,a lamp,  
  
Narcissa-being carried out the door by the rushing   
  
water. The current blasted the railing away from the ground.   
  
Lucius hit the concrete neck-first. A portion of railing  
  
landed in the pool, and the last thing he saw before the world  
  
went black was the bed, vibrating even as it fell. 


	29. Wednesday

I own nothing herein except Professor Chillinger. I think saying   
  
that I "own" a fictional character is rather disrespectful. He's   
  
his own man. He says the words and I type 'em down. The stuff about  
  
the Norwegian black metal scene is true. There's some dialogue in homage  
  
to certain moments from other SIMPSONS episodes. You'll see...  
  
"Ain't it fun, knowing that you're gonna die young?"  
  
-The Dead Boys,"Ain't It Fun"  
  
31.  
  
WEDNESDAY  
  
Harry opened his eyes. He sat up, keeping the warm,gigantic quilt  
  
near him.   
  
Professor Dumbledore was sitting next to the bed.  
  
"Ah. Good morning,Harry."  
  
"Morning, Professor."  
  
He handed Harry his glasses.   
  
Harry realized Dumbledore had been watching him sleep.  
  
He had changed robes, as well. Now he wore a long garment of   
  
wine-dark crimson.   
  
"You slept well," Dumbledore said. "Would you like some breakfast?"  
  
"Sure," Harry said. He felt more rested than he had in a long time.  
  
Dumbledore handed him a plate full of sausage,bacon and pancakes   
  
dripping with real maple syrup. "Is that all right? I could go   
  
back and get something else."  
  
"No," Harry said. "This looks delicious."   
  
"It's not breakfast at Hogwarts, but I found it quite appeasing."  
  
Harry tasted the sausage. "It's good," he said,chewing.  
  
"Excellent," Dumbledore said,and when Harry turned to nod,  
  
he and Dumbledore locked eyes. Professor Dumbledore had always  
  
had the most gentle eyes Harry had ever seen, besides Hagrid's.   
  
"Harry, while you were asleep...new information came to light."  
  
"What? What is it?"   
  
"Relax, Harry, sit back. Chew your food."  
  
Harry calmed down; Professor Dumbledore had that effect on him.  
  
"Some milk?" he asked.  
  
"Oh," Harry said, honestly surprised. No one had ever brought him  
  
breakfast before. Hagrid had bought him a hamburger,years ago. He   
  
had been making breakfast for the Dursleys for as long as he could   
  
remember. "Okay."  
  
Dumbledore handed him a large carton of milk.  
  
As he took a sip, Dumbledore ate as well. "Now then," he said,  
  
clearing his throat. "Someone in Springfield is serving Voldemort."  
  
Harry thought about that. When he'd swallowed his food,he said,  
  
"That can't be a coincidence. Was the exchange program just a  
  
cover story to come here?"  
  
"Harry...They contacted US. But you know,it is interesting,  
  
considering..."  
  
"Considering what?"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "We have someone in Springfield,as well."  
  
"We do?" Harry asked. "Who?"  
  
"That, I cannot reveal, Harry. I apologize."  
  
"Why can't you tell me?"  
  
"I'll field that one,Albus."  
  
Mr. Weasley stood in the doorway.  
  
"Morning,Harry."  
  
"Hi, Mr. Weasley."  
  
"Basically," he said,walking into the hut,"I don't even know  
  
who the contact is. The Wizengamot won't even touch this. The   
  
Headmaster is the only one who knows,and he's dealing with someone   
  
who thrives on security."  
  
"I can respect that," Harry said. "Is it someone who went   
  
to Hogwarts,at least?"  
  
"A relative of a graduate," Dumbledore said. "I'll say that much."  
  
Harry took a sip of milk.  
  
"How is it?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Tastes great," Harry said.  
  
"You have a mustache," Dumbledore said.   
  
Harry wiped the milk off of his upper lip.  
  
"Also," Mr. Weasley said, "your name has been discovered on a   
  
death list."  
  
Harry's grin faded. "A death list?"  
  
"More commonly referred to as a dead pool."   
  
"Was Sirius on the list, sir?"  
  
Dumbledore let the question settle. "No,Harry,he was not."  
  
"Whose list is it?"  
  
"Well,Lucius Malfoy had one."  
  
"Malfoy," Harry said,as if he were actually saying GONORRHEA.  
  
"Hermione is just fine, by the way."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Anything else you'd like to know,Harry?"  
  
"They contacted us about this exchange program,right?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"How did they find us?"  
  
"I honestly don't know how Superintendant Chalmers found Fudge."  
  
"There are other concerns," Dumbledore said. "Apparently,there are   
  
other lists being kept by Voldemort's Springfield contact."  
  
"We don't know who that is,do we?"  
  
"Alas,no. However, I intend to find out."  
  
"Voldemort is here," Harry said. "He's in town right now."  
  
"So is Lucius Malfoy,probably," Mr. Weasley said. "Albus,I'll  
  
be out there,somewhere. I have to go-" his next few words were  
  
incomprehensible,but Harry heard "Mathilda Hopkirk" at the end.  
  
He left.  
  
"I'm going to find Voldemort's contact. Harry, I'd like you to   
  
accompany me."  
  
"When do we start?"  
  
"After we eat."  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
Dumbledore checked his watch. Harry still didn't understand   
  
the way it worked-something about the positions of the planets-  
  
but Dumbledore glanced at it and said "Ten past eight."  
  
"I usually wake up earlier...thank you. For letting me sleep."  
  
"You probably needed the rest."  
  
"I guess I did."  
  
Harry ate another piece of sausage.  
  
"Oh," Dumbledore said. "By the way, Bart Simpson is attending class  
  
at Hogwarts."  
  
"He is?" Harry asked. "But he doesn't have any magical ability."  
  
"He has telepathic abilities,most of which are untapped."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"He can hear thoughts,but not send them. I don't know how well  
  
he'll do by Monday,but I won't deny him the opportunity to try."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
Beaming,Dumbledore said "This has become more than just a simple   
  
exchange of our groundskeepers, Harry. It's turned into a cultural   
  
exchange."  
  
Harry finished his milk. He looked into the empty glass.  
  
"Voldemort's here,you know."  
  
"Don't you remember telling me last night?"  
  
"No," he said. "He's going to try and ruin this."  
  
"Probably," Dumbledore said. "But you know, I don't think he will."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to speak,but then-  
  
"Awake already, Potter?"  
  
Professor Snape looked like he'd been awake all night.  
  
Harry smiled,because he knew it would just kill Snape. "Good morning, Professor   
  
Snape."  
  
"Oh,yes,it's perfect," Snape said. "I expect the Headmaster has  
  
told you everything."  
  
"I don't see how I could tell him everything," Dumbledore said."I  
  
mean,there's much I don't know,Severus. Trigonometry,for instance-"  
  
Snape threw his hands up and stepped outside.  
  
"Don't mind him," Dumbledore said,"He had a bad night. Something   
  
about wolves. I think this town has done something to him."  
  
"Where's Hagrid?"  
  
"Outside,pulling weeds. Also,Professor McGonagall went to perform   
  
a protection ritual around the school."  
  
"Will she come looking with us?"  
  
"I daresay she'll monitor our progress. Ron called what we're   
  
about to do 'Operation Find The Nutter'."  
  
"Operation Find The Nutter," Harry said. "I like that."  
  
"He thought you would. I brought you some fresh clothing,"   
  
Dumbledore said. He handed it to Harry-a plain blue t-shirt, jeans,  
  
and socks. Of course,his shoes were beside the bed. "Be right   
  
back," he said.  
  
"No need to hurry," Dumbledore said.  
  
He opened the door, filling the room with the rising sun.   
  
Hagrid wasn't far away. He was,as Professor Dumbledore had said,  
  
pulling weeds. He was using a screwdriver.   
  
"Morning,Hagrid," Harry said.  
  
"Hey,mate," Hagrid said. His eyes looked puffy,as if he'd been  
  
crying.  
  
Harry put a hand on one of Hagrid's massive shoulders.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Fang," Hagrid said,taking Harry's hand. "Don't know where he is."  
  
"He'll turn up," Harry said. "I'd help you, but-"  
  
"S'alright," Hagrid said. "See yeh later."  
  
"Right," Harry said.  
  
Professor McGonagall was muttering to herself, walking  
  
across the playground. She nodded to him as he neared.  
  
"Well, Potter, I was wondering when you'd awake."  
  
"Do you need any help?"  
  
"I have things well in hand."  
  
Harry nodded.   
  
"However,the spell will be magnified twofold with your help.  
  
Possibly more."  
  
"What will it do?"  
  
"It denies entrance to anyone with evil intentions."  
  
-On the other side of the school,Jimbo Jones,Dolph and Kearney  
  
were lying at the bottom of the steps,moaning in trio. Nearby,  
  
Nelson Muntz pointed at them and said "HA ha!"  
  
"-Excellent," said Harry.  
  
"Oh,yes," she said,smiling. She offered her arm; he took it.  
  
"Now repeat after me. 'Hoc limen nullum malum transeat.'"   
  
Harry repeated it. "Latin?" he asked.  
  
"A powerful language. Not dead, by any means."  
  
"What do the words mean?"  
  
"Let nothing evil cross this door."  
  
"How many languages do you know?"  
  
"Mmmm," she said,thinking. "Let me see..." They took another step.  
  
This time they said the words together.  
  
She put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm fluent in German, French,  
  
Italian, Japanese, Latin,of course, Russian...then there are   
  
ancient languages,Mr. Potter. You haven't read 'The Canterbury   
  
Tales' or the tales of King Arthur until you've read them in the   
  
original Old English."  
  
"Are they in the school library?"  
  
"Oh,yes."  
  
They took another step,murmuring the words.  
  
"Of course,I could teach you how to read them, if you'd like."  
  
Harry thought about that. "All right."  
  
"You know...I just remembered something. The Anglo-Saxon meaning  
  
of the name 'Harry' is 'power.' The Greek meaning of my name is   
  
also 'power.'"  
  
Harry looked up at her. "Really."  
  
"Just something you and I share," she said.  
  
Another step. They said the words.  
  
"You know, years from now,I'll be able to say 'Harry Potter? I   
  
taught him everything he knows.' There's room for improvement, of   
  
course, still so much to learn. But I could say that about anyone."  
  
They rounded the side of the school. Said the words again.  
  
"You've experienced more than most people do in a lifetime. I  
  
know it isn't easy,growing up in times like these...I just hope   
  
I've been a worthy teacher."  
  
Steps. Words.  
  
"You've been a great teacher," Harry said. I don't know where I'd  
  
be without you. "Am I doing all right?"  
  
"Well,of course you are."  
  
They came to the front of the school,in time to see Jimbo Jones  
  
pumping himself up at the curb. His cronies were egging him on.  
  
He took off running, but then smacked into the invisible barrier   
  
and bounced off,reeling,as if he were a marionette owned by an  
  
angry puppeteer.   
  
"Hmmmph," Professor McGonagall said. "Well,I can't let them skip  
  
classes. That's just reinforcement." She looked at Harry."You know,  
  
rewarding them for bad behavior," she explained.  
  
"Right," Harry said.   
  
"Leave them to me," she said.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Thank YOU, Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry entered the school.  
  
It had been so long since he'd actually been in a regular school.  
  
He felt strange,being the only one there.   
  
As he searched for the bathroom,he wondered what these kids   
  
learned about. Was it so much different than what he'd been  
  
taught, before he had ever heard of Hogwarts?  
  
He turned a corner; behind one door, he heard music. A piano.  
  
The door had been propped open. Harry went to it; the room was  
  
dark, but Harry could see that it was full of musical instruments.  
  
Seated at one of them was a man with shaggy gray hair. Harry  
  
didn't know the piece he was playing,but it brought tears to his  
  
eyes; it was both beautiful and terribly sad.  
  
Harry tore himself away.  
  
In a minute,he found the bathroom; it was clearly marked BOYS.   
  
He had seen those other markers,the ones with the gender-specific   
  
outlines,and they made him laugh,picturing a guy wearing a kilt in   
  
the ladies' room and a bald woman wearing pants in the mens' room.  
  
He splashed water on his face,and used the pinkish liquid soap,  
  
which smelled sweet. He stepped out of yesterday's clothes and   
  
put the fresh ones on. As he put his shoes on,he happened to  
  
glance out the window.  
  
A dark figure stood in the parking lot,leaning leaning against  
  
a lamppost. He saw Harry and came to life.  
  
Harry came closer to the window.  
  
He was startled by the flash; it made him blink.  
  
For a second, he was confused.  
  
"He took my picture," Harry said.  
  
Harry glared at the window; the glass disappeared.  
  
He leapt through the windowsill,into the morning.  
  
"Hey," Harry said. The figure turned to run and tripped.  
  
Harry threw himself on top of the photographer,who was much   
  
larger than Harry. He was a big ugly guy; his face was flat,like   
  
it'd been stomped on once too often. He tried to get up,but Harry   
  
leaned on him with all his weight.   
  
"Get off," said the man.  
  
"Why did you take my picture?" Harry yelled.  
  
"Get OFF-"He bucked like a horse,but Harry held on.   
  
"Who are you? What are you going to do with that picture? TELL ME-"  
  
Finally,the guy stopped struggling.  
  
Harry let go.  
  
The guy collapsed against the curb.  
  
"Jesus H. Christ," he said. "You're stronger than I thought."  
  
"Look,would you-"  
  
"Your picture is worth a lot of money."  
  
"To who?"  
  
"The Daily Prophet. They pay the best."  
  
"You work for the Prophet. Great."  
  
The photographer got up and began walking away.  
  
He got a few yards away,then turned.  
  
"Have you moved here?"  
  
Harry ignored him.  
  
"Is that what this is all about?"  
  
Harry looked the other way.  
  
"You're trying to get away from Voldemort,is that it? Hiding  
  
among muggles?"  
  
"You want a quote?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "I want a quote."  
  
"Fine. Quote: Your paper is a rag. It's staffed by a bunch of   
  
inhuman slimeballs. I use it to line the bottom of my owl's perch,  
  
and when she travels,her birdcage. Unquote. Now get out of here."  
  
He did.  
  
Harry watched him disappear. The moment he was gone, a car swung  
  
into the parking lot. Harry wasn't an expert on cars; of course,  
  
there was the Anglia and the cars from the Ministry and whatever  
  
Uncle Vernon drove. Harry had never seen a car like the one pulling  
  
next to him. The thing looked terribly depressed,a gray heap of   
  
chrome with wheels.  
  
Finally,the engine died. The door opened. Mrs. Krabappel smiled  
  
down at him. "Hey,Harry," she said. "Why the long face?"  
  
"There was a guy here," he said. "He took my picture. Apparently  
  
my picture's worth a lot of money."  
  
She sat next to him. "It's tough when you're in demand, huh?"  
  
"Tell me about it. All the papers want do is lie about me."  
  
"Tch. I've heard some real stories about the press on your side of   
  
the world. Guess they're true. Well,you gotta rise above them,no   
  
matter what they say. Do you mind if I smoke?"  
  
"Uh, well-"  
  
"Oh,I'll light up inside. Did they...I don't want to prod into your   
  
private life-"  
  
"No,go ahead. I have no secrets to keep."  
  
"One of your teachers...she said that someone died..."  
  
"More than one. And there's this prophecy..."  
  
"A prophecy,huh?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Destiny is a tricky subject," she said. "Was I meant to be a   
  
teacher? There is such a thing as free will, Harry."  
  
"Not in this case. Something has to happen. And if that something  
  
doesn't happen, something else will happen."  
  
"You don't think it's fair,do you?"  
  
"I went through that stage," Harry said. "I'm glad it's over."  
  
Mrs. Krabappel laughed. "I know what you mean," she said, and  
  
then stood up. "Listen,Harry,I have to go inside for awhile,I'm   
  
a little hung over. Will I see you later?"  
  
"I'll probably be here all week," Harry said.   
  
She turned to leave.  
  
"Oh,hey," Harry said,"Mrs. Krabappel,I was wondering..."  
  
Mrs. Krabappel turned. "Yeah,Harry,what were you wondering?"  
  
"One of the teachers was playing the piano-"  
  
"Mr. Largo," she said. "Our music teacher."  
  
"Oh. Well, that makes sense. We don't have a music teacher at  
  
Hogwarts."  
  
"How sad."  
  
"How did you guys manage to find Hogwarts?"  
  
The funniest thing happened.  
  
Mrs. Krabappel began to say something-  
  
-and then her face went blank. Her eyes closed partway,and when  
  
she spoke next,it was as if she were reading from a script.  
  
"Did you know Seymour was in the war?"  
  
"What war?"  
  
"Vietnam. He knew a kid named...Johnny."  
  
He waved his hand in front of her face.  
  
She snapped back like a rubber band.  
  
"What were you wondering?" she asked.  
  
"Forget it," Harry said.  
  
Mrs. Krabappel grinned,and then walked into the building.  
  
Harry sat there a moment more. Kids began to filter into the school.  
  
Then he went back to the playground and found Professor Dumbledore,  
  
in the middle of pulling a weed.  
  
"A man from the Daily Prophet just tried to interview us," he said.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
Professor Dumbledore looked rather amused.  
  
"What did yeh do to him,Harry?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"I jumped on him. He took my picture. I thought-"  
  
"I can imagine what you thought," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I told him he worked for a rag of a paper and I use it to line  
  
the bottom of wherever Hedwig happens to be."  
  
Dumbledore's mustache twitched. Then he began to shake with   
  
laughter. "Oh," Dumbledore said,still laughing,but under control.   
  
"Harry, I'm glad you're one of mine."  
  
"Yeh know they're going to roast the both of yeh," Hagrid said,  
  
but he was laughing,too.  
  
"I don't care," Harry said.  
  
"Neither do I," Professor Dumbledore said."Let them say what they will."  
  
"Oh...Professor-"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I just had the weirdest conversation with Mrs. Krabap-"  
  
"Professor?"  
  
It was Mrs. Krabappel,at the rear doors.  
  
"Yes,Edna?"  
  
"There's a phone call for you."  
  
"For me?"  
  
"It's Lisa Simpson."  
  
"Oh," he said. "Harry,I'll be right back."  
  
"I'll meet you by the front steps."  
  
Dumbledore nodded,then followed Mrs. Krabappel inside.  
  
She led him to the principal's office. "Lisa asked to talk to   
  
you. She sounded kind of upset."  
  
She opened the door. There were pictures of Edna Krabappel on the   
  
walls. One of them fell to the floor. "Aggh..."  
  
She opened a drawer of the principal's desk.  
  
"Are you and Principal Skinner-"  
  
"Oh,we got married last year." She pulled a long red-handled   
  
screwdriver out of the drawer. Then she picked up the picture,which  
  
was basically just her smiling;behind her,there was sunlight,and   
  
trees. Dumbledore was used to seeing pictures move; it was quite a   
  
change,these stationary photographs.  
  
"Congratulations. By the way, Edna...I was just wondering...  
  
would you happen to know how Superintendant Chalmers found   
  
Hogwarts?"  
  
"Did I tell you...Seymour was in the war?"  
  
"Which war was this,Edna?"  
  
"Vietnam."  
  
Dumbledore waited.  
  
"He knew a kid named...Johnny."  
  
Dumbledore waved his hand in front of Edna's face.  
  
The drugged look vanished in an instant.  
  
"Why, thank you, Headmaster," she said. "Yeah,marrying  
  
Seymour was really convenient for both of us-"  
  
He knew what would happen,but he asked again.  
  
"Edna,how did Superintendant Chalmers find Hogwarts?"  
  
"Did I tell you...Seymour was in the war?"  
  
"Mmm," Dumbledore said,looking into her eyes.  
  
"He knew a kid named..."  
  
"Johnny, yes..." Dumbledore snapped his fingers.  
  
"-you know how that is, I assume?"  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said, smiling,"I do."  
  
"Well,I'll leave you alone." She walked out of the room.  
  
Dumbledore followed her.  
  
"Superintendant Chalmers," he said.  
  
"Did I tell you...Seymour was-"  
  
Dumbledore touched her shoulder.  
  
"Did you forget something, Albus?"  
  
"The exchange program."  
  
"Did I tell you..."  
  
Dumbledore touched her other shoulder.  
  
"False alarm," he said. "I apologize."  
  
"Oh,that's all right."  
  
"Fudge," he said.  
  
"I love fudge," she said. "Especially with-"  
  
"Cornelius Fudge."  
  
"...my name is Edna Krabapple...and my father's an alcoholic..."  
  
He waved his hand in front of her face.  
  
"-nuts and whipped cream."  
  
"I'll find some," Dumbledore said. "To celebrate a successful   
  
exch-" he caught himself just in time and pretended to sneeze.  
  
"Fudge sounds wonderful," said Edna. "Later."  
  
"Oh,yes," Dumbledore said.  
  
She turned,and walked away.  
  
Dumbledore walked into Skinner's office,and picked up the reciever.   
  
"Miss Simpson,are you there?"  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," said Lisa. Dumbledore furrowed his brow.She  
  
really sounded quite upset."Something's wrong with Fawkes."  
  
"What is it,Miss Simpson?"  
  
"I don't know. He's just lying on my bed. I think he's sick."  
  
"I'll be right there." He put the reciever down.  
  
A moment later, he Apparated into Lisa's room.  
  
"Here he is," she said.  
  
He sat beside Fawkes, who made a weak noise in his throat.  
  
"Come here," he said.  
  
She sat next to him.  
  
"Lisa," he said, in his most comforting voice,"I don't want to   
  
alarm you, but Fawkes is dying."  
  
"He's going to die?"  
  
"Sometimes it takes a few days. Then,there are times,like now,  
  
when it happens quickly."  
  
"He'll be reborn,right?"  
  
"Exactly. Just make him comfortable. He seems to like your   
  
bed, so let him lie here. It's best not to interfere."  
  
"What about the fire?"  
  
"No need to worry. It's certainly hot,but it consumes nothing   
  
except Fawkes."  
  
"So it's like spontaneous human combustion?"  
  
"Well, I knew someone who spontaneously combusted.It's rather   
  
different,even if they both involve immolation." He took Lisa's  
  
hand. "There's nothing to worry about. Just know that everything  
  
will be all right."   
  
"Everything will be all right," Lisa said.   
  
Suddenly, the reason why he felt so drawn to Lisa came to Dumbledore.  
  
She reminded him of-  
  
He had to look away from the girl. The door was open. If-  
  
"Professor?"  
  
He tried to keep what he was feeling out of his voice. "Yes, Miss Simpson."  
  
"Are you all right? You zoned out for a second."  
  
"I'm fine,Lisa,it's just that...you remind me of someone."  
  
She reminded Hagrid of Hermione. She reminds me-  
  
"Someone you like,I hope."  
  
"Someone I loved," he said. "Her name was Lily."  
  
"Lily," she said.  
  
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I have to go." Dumbledore  
  
stood up. "After it happens,when he pokes his head out of the  
  
ashes,give him these. I'll let Principal Skinner know."   
  
He handed a few of Fawkes's treats to Lisa.  
  
"Until we meet again,my dear."  
  
He disappeared.   
  
Then he reappeared.  
  
"Did you forget something,Professor?"  
  
"Cornelius Fudge," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Never heard of him," Lisa said.  
  
"Well, then." With a wink, he disappeared again.  
  
He caught Severus,who was on his way out of the bathroom.  
  
"Severus," he said,"I need you to keep an eye on Edna Krabappel.  
  
"Is she in danger?"  
  
"I fear someone has tampered with her mind. Mention Superintendant  
  
Chalmers or the exchange to her. You'll see what I mean. If   
  
Superintendent Chalmers shows up, watch him."  
  
"I'll watch her quite closely," Snape said. "Shall I do the same  
  
for Principal Skinner?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "And tell Skinner that Lisa Simpson may not  
  
be in class today."  
  
---  
  
Harry was sitting on the front steps of the school.  
  
"Ready?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Where is Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"There were some guys out here. She turned them into hamsters.  
  
She's looking for a cage."   
  
Together,they walked away from the school. Soon,Harry could barely  
  
see it.  
  
As he walked, Professor Dumbledore looked peaceful. He began  
  
humming to himself, as he often did. Harry didn't want to interrupt,  
  
but curiosity overwhelmed him.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"We have no destination," Dumbledore said.   
  
"We're going to wander around?"  
  
"Exactly, Harry."  
  
They wandered down streets lined with houses; Harry could not   
  
help but watch people do unfamiliar things. He had never seen a  
  
garage sale,and there were several going on. He saw things that  
  
seemed more arcane than any kind of wizardry. Cars passed them,  
  
blaring a hundred different styles of music.   
  
"All this music," Dumbledore said. "I can feel it, Harry."  
  
"So can I," Harry said. "It's like we're breathing it."  
  
"Music is quite important to these people."  
  
"I think-"   
  
"What is it?" Dumbledore asked,but Harry was no longer beside him.  
  
He was looking up at a huge old house,unlike any of the others on   
  
the street. A huge iron gate prevented intruders.  
  
"Who lives in there?" Harry asked.  
  
"Someone who values their privacy," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Well,hel-lo,handsome."  
  
Dumbledore and Harry both turned.  
  
The woman in front of them carried a paper bag under her arm.   
  
Something told Harry it wasn't full of groceries. She was an  
  
older woman with gray hair; her voice crackled like fire. She   
  
wore a red dress; it was as if she were going to a costume ball.  
  
"I assume you mean me?" Dumbledore said.  
  
"I'm not talking to the kid."  
  
"I'm sixteen, I'm hardly a kid."  
  
She grinned. "If you say so,son."  
  
"Don't call me son,you're not my mother."  
  
Dumbledore noted Harry's smile. He had not spoken in anger.  
  
"Wow,you ARE sixteen. My name's Belle."  
  
"Albus Dumbledore," he said. "This is Harry."  
  
"Albus..." she said,testing it. "Anybody ever call you Al?"  
  
"My brother," Dumbledore said. "I call him Abe."  
  
"Do you live here?" Harry asked.  
  
"You could say that," Belle said."You're from that school, right?"  
  
"We were just exploring the town," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Would you like to come in for some...oh,I don't know. Whatever."  
  
"Perhaps later," Dumbledore said.  
  
She unlocked the gate.   
  
"I'll be waiting," she said. "Have fun exploring,Al."  
  
She locked the gate.   
  
"Whoa," Harry said.  
  
Dumbledore peeled him off of the gate,and they were once   
  
again on their way.  
  
"She really liked you," Harry said.  
  
"I'm taken," Dumbledore said.  
  
"You have a girlfriend, Professor?"  
  
"I'm married, Harry."  
  
Harry couldn't speak for a moment.  
  
"You are?"  
  
"Oh, yes. And very much in love with my wife."  
  
"Do I know your wife? Have I ever met her?"  
  
"The answer to both questions is yes."  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor, this is just...mind-blowing."  
  
"You're surprised?"  
  
"No,it's not that. I'm glad you have a family. Do you have any  
  
children?"  
  
Dumbledore didn't answer immediately.  
  
"The children of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said.   
  
"I never even bothered to ask," Harry said. "It's not something  
  
you advertise, though, right? As a precautionary measure."  
  
"Quite right,Harry."  
  
The two of them grew silent. It wasn't an unfriendly silence;  
  
it was just the silence of introspection, of two people familiar  
  
enough with each other not to speak.   
  
----  
  
Eventually,the houses gave way to storefronts and traffic lights.  
  
The city seemed so large.   
  
"I suppose this is downtown," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Guess so," Harry said.  
  
"I wonder if there's a town library," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Let's ask around," Harry said. There was someone coming in  
  
their direction, another woman; Harry hoped that Padma and  
  
Parvati Patil would both look like her, because she was very   
  
pretty. Her hair was the blackest Harry had ever seen; she wore a   
  
sari that seemed to be red,pink and orange all at once.  
  
"Excuse me," Harry said.  
  
"Yes?" she asked,and smiled.  
  
"Can you tell us how to get to the library?"  
  
"Oh,yes,it's just up the street."  
  
Her voice was so soft.  
  
"Thanks," Harry said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded and smiled.  
  
"You're welcome," she said.  
  
"She was nice," Harry said.  
  
"She certainly was," Dumbledore said.  
  
The library was, as the woman had said, just up the street.  
  
It was a rather plain building that blended in with the street.  
  
There was a banner over the entrance that read BOOK SALE-GET 'EM   
  
WHILE THEY'RE HOT.  
  
Harry had only known one librarian in his life-Madame Pince,who  
  
ran the library with an iron fist. The librarian behind the main  
  
desk didn't look nearly so starved for human flesh as Irma Pince  
  
always did. She wore a badge that read LYDIA NORTON, and she   
  
looked like she told people to be quiet more often than she liked.  
  
She didn't smile when she saw Harry. "May I help you?"   
  
"Do you have anything about the history of Springfield?"  
  
"We have newspaper archives on microfiche. You know,there's also  
  
the historical society. I know Mr. Hurlbut,he's lived here forever-"  
  
"I'll handle the microfiche,Harry," Dumbledore said. "Look around,  
  
see if anything captures your attention."  
  
Mrs. Norton led Professor Dumbledore away.   
  
Harry lingered by the desk a moment. Then he started to look   
  
around. It had nothing on the library at Hogwarts,but it was   
  
still nice. There were a multitude of books he had never read;  
  
some of them were incredibly thick and others were so thin you  
  
could probably read them in a minute. There were tables around   
  
the library; people sat reading, enraptured in a hundred different  
  
worlds they wished were real.  
  
"All these books," Harry said.   
  
Behind him,someone laughed.  
  
He turned. Seated at the desk was a big black man; he was holding  
  
a book called SILENT TREATMENT by someone named Michael Palmer.  
  
He was smiling at Harry.  
  
"I know the feeling," he said. He had to put the book down to   
  
hold his sides. He kept laughing,and Harry liked him immediately.  
  
"Harry Potter," he said.  
  
"Dr. Julius Hibbert."  
  
They shook hands.  
  
"You're from the English school?"  
  
"Yeah," he said.   
  
"Are you in a hurry? Sit down,if you like."  
  
Harry pulled out a chair and sat down.  
  
"You know...there are times when I think I've read every book  
  
in this library?" He laughed again.  
  
"Have you?"  
  
"I've read a lot of them," he said. "I like all the weird stuff.  
  
You ever read Wrath James White or Joe R. Lansdale?"  
  
"I've never even heard of them."  
  
"Best place to familiarize yourself is right here." He laughed  
  
that wonderful laugh again. It didn't take a whole lot to make   
  
Dr. Hibbert laugh. Harry wondered if he laughed during surgery.  
  
"Can I ask you a question?"  
  
"What do you wanna know?"  
  
"Does Springfield have a history of witchcraft?"  
  
"Well...hmmm...Harry, I don't remember any witchcraft happening in   
  
this town. Maybe I'm not the best one to ask. There are older-"  
  
Dr. Hibbert frowned suddenly.  
  
Harry knew why.  
  
Dr. Hibbert reached towards Harry's forehead.  
  
Harry jerked away.  
  
"Let me see," Dr. Hibbert said. "It's okay, I'm a doctor. Just  
  
because today's my day off-"  
  
He brushed the hair away from Harry's forehead.  
  
Dr. Hibbert studied it in silence.  
  
"That's a hell of a scar," he finally said.  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. Why,yes,Doctor,it certainly is?  
  
"You do that yourself?"  
  
"No," Harry said.   
  
"What is it? A ritual cutting? Knife fight?"  
  
"A curse scar," Harry said.   
  
"That's a new one on me."  
  
"You should've seen the other guy."  
  
Dr. Hibbert laughed. "I've got scars of my own, Harry."  
  
"Do you."  
  
"Oh,yeah. Most of them are from when I was a kid. Course, I run   
  
into all sorts of people on the job. You haven't lived until   
  
you've strapped a raving, drooling nun onto a gurney."  
  
"What was wrong with her?"  
  
"There's a component in bread...I forget if it's the yeast or   
  
what, but it has the same chemical composition as lysergic acid  
  
dysalimide. Anyway,she prepared the bread incorrectly and had   
  
a convent full of hallucinating nuns clawing each others' eyes out  
  
and screaming their habits off about being eaten by demons..." and  
  
he laughed again.  
  
"Is your job always so weird?"  
  
"My job can be pretty weird sometimes. Wouldn't trade it for  
  
anything,though. I love helping people." Of course, he laughed   
  
again. Then he quieted down.  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"Sixteen."  
  
"Hmmm..." he said. "What's a good book for someone your age? My son is   
  
reading this book by Neil Gaiman-have you ever heard of him?"  
  
"No."  
  
"If you ever see a comic book called THE SANDMAN,pick it up. It's  
  
the most literary comic you'll ever see. Anyway, just pick one   
  
that sounds interesting-"  
  
"Ah,Harry,there you are," said Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor,this is Dr. Hibbert."  
  
"Harry's quite a guy," Dr. Hibbert said.  
  
"That he is. Harry,are you ready?"  
  
"I guess so," Harry said.   
  
"Bye, Harry."  
  
"Bye, Dr. Hibbert."  
  
As they exited,Harry asked,"Did you find anything?"  
  
"Nothing," Dumbledore said. "No witchcraft whatsoever,or   
  
anything Voldemort might be interested in. Other than Ralph  
  
Wiggum,of course."   
  
Then he checked his watch.  
  
Harry didn't ask the time. It didn't matter.  
  
--  
  
"There are a lot of books I haven't read," Harry said.  
  
"I have that problem, too. So many books, and not enough time   
  
to read them all."  
  
"I don't know where to start," Harry said. "Does it matter?"  
  
"Not really," Dumbledore said. "Once you find a story that   
  
draws you into its world, there is no beginning or ending. I  
  
find those are my favorites."  
  
"Where the story ends,but the characters go on?"  
  
"Exactly," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Are there any wizard novelists?"  
  
"Well...Harry, I've always considered artists, wizard or not, to  
  
be in possession of another kind of magical talent. My fascination  
  
with this isn't easy to put into words...I love music. I love   
  
literature. There are times when I feel like I could write a book,   
  
or compose a sonata.Maybe I should write a novel, someday."  
  
"I'd read it," Harry said.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled.   
  
"I have a lifetime of inspiration," he said.   
  
"It'd be scary," Harry said.  
  
"Some of it," Dumbledore said. "I've seen some frightening things."  
  
"Were you afraid?"  
  
"Yes," he said. "However, I never let myself surrender to fear."  
  
"Do you still see those things?"  
  
"In my dreams,I sometimes revisit them. You asked if I sleep."  
  
"I did? I thought that was a dream."  
  
"It wasn't. You've never seen me sleep, but I do. I've been told   
  
that I snore."  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
"Now that's a sound I miss," Dumbledore said. "Yes, I apparently  
  
snore. Of course, I've known people afflicted with sleep apnea...  
  
in sleep, they stop breathing, sometimes for a whole minute. Then  
  
when they start breathing again,the snoring starts,and it's   
  
unbelievably loud. Quite a sight to see."  
  
"I don't know if I snore," Harry said.  
  
"I've watched you sleep. You don't."  
  
At that moment, a sleek red car sped by.  
  
"He's in a hurry," Dumbledore said.  
  
A police car followed after it.  
  
"Was that Chief Wiggum?" Harry asked.  
  
"No," Dumbledore said. "One of his deputies."  
  
"I wonder if he knows."  
  
"About Ralph?"  
  
"Yeah...I mean, the leprechaun can't conceal his abilities all  
  
the time, can it?"  
  
"Leprechauns are so unpredictable," Dumbledore said. "He's  
  
safe,though. You and Professor McGonagall did the ritual.  
  
Nothing is getting in that school that shouldn't be there."  
  
----  
  
"Headmaster," someone called. Actually,it sounded like   
  
three people at once.  
  
Harry and Professor Dumbledore turned.  
  
"Afternoon,Ishmael."  
  
"Hi,Professor Chillinger," Harry said.  
  
"You scare me,Potter. You really scare me," said Chillinger One.  
  
"Don't listen to him," Chillinger Two said.  
  
"Well,you don't HAVE to..." Chillinger Three said.  
  
"Is there a problem,Professor?"  
  
"Sir,it's Bart Simpson."  
  
"What has the boy done?"  
  
"He's not supposed to make friends with the dark creatures I  
  
use for class,Headmaster."  
  
"Not that I like working with them."  
  
"I don't care one way or the other."  
  
"He kept asking me when we were going to learn how to,and   
  
I quote,'Blow stuff up.'"  
  
"He's going to love Potions," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Is someone substituting for Snape?" Harry asked.  
  
"PROFESSOR Snape,Harry. Yes, there's a substitute." He turned  
  
to Chillinger. "Ishmael, he'll only be with us until Friday.   
  
Please don't discourage him, all right?"  
  
"I'm not sure I like that," said Chillinger Three.  
  
"I'm sure I don't," Chillinger One said.  
  
Chillinger Two kept silent. He just nodded.  
  
The three of them Disapparated.  
  
"I worry about that man," Dumbledore said.  
  
"He knows his stuff...he just seems dissociated from reality." Harry paused. "I   
  
know how he feels, I guess. I can't help feeling...overwhelmed by the world,   
  
sometimes."  
  
He looked up at Dumbledore,who was listening silently.  
  
"The universe is huge," Harry said. He gasped.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I don't remember if the telescope was in your office," Harry   
  
said. "You didn't junk it, did you?"  
  
"It's still there," Dumbledore said. "I did replace the glass."  
  
"Good. I'm glad."  
  
"I'm happy you're glad," he said.  
  
"First THE X FILES, now DOCTOR WHO?"  
  
"You've seen DOCTOR WHO,as well." Dumbledore said, smiling. "That's good to know."  
  
"Everyone's seen DOCTOR WHO," Harry said.   
  
"They never showed it in France."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"There was a boxful of videotapes...in the closet. My aunt and   
  
uncle and Dudley left me alone one day and I watched a bunch of   
  
them."  
  
"The Doctor is one of my personal heroes."  
  
"You could BE the Doctor," Harry said.   
  
"Why, thank you, Harry."  
  
----  
  
At lunchtime, they came upon Krusty Burger.  
  
"That name doesn't encourage me..." Dumbledore said. "Are you  
  
in the mood for a few hamburgers, Harry?"  
  
"Hamburgers sound great," he said.  
  
They crossed the street,which wasn't busy.  
  
Harry had only been inside a place like this once, the morning  
  
of the infamous Snake Incident at the zoo. He remembered the  
  
meat tasting nothing like meat and the chips being brittle  
  
and Dudley trying to bury him under the colored balls in the   
  
playroom,or PlayPlace,or whatever it had been called. The  
  
Choking Hazard Room would have been more appropriate. Dumbledore  
  
held the door open for Harry; he stepped inside.   
  
"Find us a place to sit," Dumbledore said. "I'll order. These   
  
places drown your food in cheese when you specifically ask them not  
  
to put cheese on anything. If that happens, I'd like it to happen   
  
to me..."  
  
Harry picked a booth by the window. This place really wasn't  
  
any different from that other fast food place all those years ago.   
  
He watched the world go by.   
  
It felt so unreal now.  
  
In a minute, Dumbledore slid into the booth across from him,   
  
carrying a tray. "These are hot," he said. Harry knew he could have  
  
floated the food over to the table if he'd felt like it,but Professor  
  
Dumbledore was not one to abuse his abilities.  
  
Harry took one of the hamburgers and unwrapped it.  
  
He took a bite. It tasted awful.   
  
Professor Dumbledore looked as if he'd come to the same conclusion with his food.  
  
"I don't think this could technically be classified as meat,"   
  
he said. "And look. I specifically asked them to exclude   
  
any kind of cheese. Here it is." He peeled the square of  
  
cheese away from the pseudo-meat. It came away whole,as if it  
  
were made of plastic.  
  
"They wouldn't get away with this in Japan, I'll tell you that."  
  
"Have you been to Japan?"  
  
"I've been all over the world, Harry. In Japan, the aesthetic   
  
arrangement of the food is just as important as its taste. It  
  
must be as pleasing to the eye as it is to the palate."  
  
He put his burger down.   
  
Harry watched him. He put his down, as well.  
  
"Well, this was a wonderful choice," Dumbledore said.   
  
Harry looked at the table.  
  
"No, I didn't mean-"  
  
"I know what you meant," Harry said.   
  
"When I remember this place,I'll only recall that you were  
  
here with me. The taste of whatever these are will fade."  
  
"You'll remember this place because I was here with you?"  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "That's reason enough for me."  
  
Harry started to say something, then turned back to the window.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Have I ever disappointed you?"  
  
"You have yet to disappoint me."  
  
"Sir...those things you said, last year...did you mean them?"  
  
"I wouldn't have said them if I hadn't," Dumbledore said,  
  
after a moment. He took Harry's hand. "I meant every single word."  
  
Harry smiled. It took a moment, but he did. Then it faded.  
  
"Remember what I said about being all right?"  
  
"I remember."  
  
Harry looked at his food. "I'm not."  
  
"I know," Dumbledore said. "Neither am I."  
  
"You're not?"  
  
"I failed you, Harry."  
  
"You didn't fail me.  
  
"You know I did."  
  
"You DIDN'T fail me."  
  
"It's my fault Sirius Black is dead."  
  
"No,it isn't."  
  
"Then whose fault is it? Give me a name so I can tear their   
  
hair out and rend their clothes instead of mine and scream HOW   
  
COULD THIS HAPPEN at them instead of myself."  
  
"It's no one's fault. Especially not yours. The only one to  
  
blames are Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange. I believe that   
  
justice will catch up with her. Maybe I won't be the one to do it.   
  
It'll come from from someone else. Sirius will be avenged. I   
  
believe that. Maybe that's why Neville is part of the prophecy.  
  
As for Voldemort...if only one of us can survive...I obviously choose me."  
  
"You've been thinking about this."  
  
"I had all summer. Stop blaming yourself," Harry said. "This is beyond fault."  
  
"All right," Dumbledore said. He looked like a weight had   
  
been lifted from him. "Now what's troubling you? Please tell me."  
  
"Why do you have such confidence in me?"  
  
"Because I've seen what you can do," he said. "Because you're   
  
worth every bit of that belief. Because I need to believe that  
  
the world has a future."  
  
"But that's just it," Harry said. "I'm sixteen and I feel like I'm  
  
trying to hold up the entire world by myself."  
  
"You aren't alone, Harry. Not at Hogwarts. Not right now,either.  
  
As before,if you want to vent, I'll listen. Talk to me. Scream at   
  
me if you feel the need. Let me bear your rage. Don't hold anything  
  
in, let it all out."  
  
"I'm all out of rage," he said. He put his face in his hands."I was  
  
such an arsehole last year."  
  
"You had good reason to be angry."  
  
"When I got back to the Dursleys,I...I don't know,all the anger  
  
drained out of me and I just...turned inward. I don't know how  
  
else to describe it. I just...you're right, I thought a lot."   
  
"This started with the Triwizard Tournament,didn't it?"  
  
"That stupid tournament," he said. Then he looked up at Dumbledore.  
  
"I mean...The Triwizard Tournament was an honorable contest. I hate  
  
how it's going to be remembered. The year Harry Potter won ten   
  
thousand galleons in money splattered with Cedric Diggory's blood."  
  
"But it's not blood money now,is it?"  
  
"I didn't want it and I'm not sorry about what I did with it."  
  
"I would have done the same," he said. "You did the best thing  
  
one can do with blood money...it's being used to make people happy."  
  
Harry looked at the table,flashing an embarrassed grin. "So you know."  
  
"I know," Dumbledore said.  
  
Then he grew serious.  
  
"Harry...your aunt and uncle..."  
  
"What about them?"  
  
"Do they beat you?"  
  
The question dropped Harry's jaw.  
  
"No," he said,looking at the table again.  
  
"I remember something Hagrid told me. Six years ago,he told me   
  
what the Dursleys were like. I remember him mentioning that Vernon  
  
said that your magical abilities were 'nothing a good beating   
  
wouldn't have cured.' They've never laid a hand on you?"  
  
"He's threatened to. They just...yell at me."  
  
"That can be worse than a beating."  
  
"Aunt Petunia wasn't as bad this summer. I try not to listen to them,but...  
  
you know,they've never called me by name,just 'boy," my personal favorite,   
  
'freak' or "it." Uncle Vernon doesnt' do it to my face anymore,   
  
that's all. It's all I can do not to believe what he says-"  
  
Dumbledore took Harry's hand from across the table in both of his.  
  
His hands were so warm.  
  
"Harry," he said, "If you're a freak...then so am I."  
  
Harry stared at him, openmouthed.   
  
"You're...you're not a freak."   
  
"And neither are you," Dumbledore said. "  
  
Then,he found words.   
  
"Ever since I saw my parents come out of Voldemort's   
  
wand,I can hear them in my head," he said. "When I think about  
  
it, I can hear their voices. All the way back to when I was a   
  
baby. Every night,I go to bed and want my mom and dad-"  
  
He felt his eyes burning,then a pair of tears hit the table.  
  
"Thinking about it makes makes me feel selfish, and then I hate   
  
myself for thinking only of myself-"  
  
Dumbledore couldn't find any words,so he just held Harry's hand,and   
  
shook his head.  
  
"-So many other families have been torn apart by Voldemort and I   
  
can only think of wanting my parents and Sirius back."  
  
"Harry...I miss them too. If I had one wish,It would bring them   
  
back to life."  
  
"What about the socks?"  
  
"Socks? If I had to choose between them and socks,bugger the socks."  
  
Harry looked down at the alleged food.  
  
"I don't think I can eat the rest of this," Harry said.  
  
"Then don't. I can't eat mine,either."  
  
Harry looked up at him. "I'm sorry I wasted your money," he said.  
  
Then he started to cry.  
  
"Hey," said the kid behind the counter,his vocal chords obviously   
  
contending with adolescence,"You'll have to take him outside-"  
  
Dumbledore scowled at the kid. "Can't you see he's distraught?"  
  
"The other customers are trying to eat."  
  
Dumbledore glanced around the place. "WHAT other customers?"  
  
Two booths down,a little man with thick round glasses  
  
hopped down to the floor. He was smaller than Flitwick,and his  
  
skull looked like an unshelled peanut. His eyes were huge;   
  
they looked trapped behind his eyeglasses.  
  
"I come here for breakfast,lunch and dinner," he said.  
  
Dumbledore got up. He sat down beside Harry. Gently,he   
  
said "Would you like to leave,Harry?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said.   
  
Dumbledore got up,and so did Harry.  
  
A man dressed like a clown burst out of the kitchen. This,  
  
Dumbledore surmised,was Krusty the Clown. Then he felt a hand   
  
encircle his and realized that Harry was afraid of Krusty.   
  
"Hey HEEEEEY!" he exclaimed. "What's the-"  
  
"You won't see us in here again," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Euuuugh." Krusty said.   
  
Dumbledore opened the door. NO SHOES NO SHIRT NO SERVICE,it read.  
  
Oddly enough, it said nothing about pants.   
  
"Your food tastes as if it were manufactured in a laboratory."  
  
With that,they made an exit.  
  
"You old geezer," Krusty whispered,opened the door and yelled   
  
"THAT'S 'CAUSE IT WAS!" He stood still a moment and then  
  
clapped a hand against his face. "I gotta stop doin' that..."  
  
-----  
  
A block later,Harry was still crying. He was trying to cry   
  
silently. Dumbledore could feel his pain. Last year,he  
  
had shed a single tear, thinking of all the responsibility on  
  
Harry's shoulders. He was no longer a child. Now he wanted to cry even more,but   
  
Harry needed him to be strong. He needed Harry as much as Harry needed him.  
  
As soon as he saw it, Dumbledore led him down a grassy embankment.   
  
They found themselves in a rather large park; there were people out  
  
walking the paths,and riding paddleboats in the water,throwing  
  
frisbees,flying kites.   
  
There was a bench nearby; he sat down next to Harry.  
  
"You haven't been able to talk to anyone,have you?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "The Dursleys don't care," he wept. "I know  
  
you want to believe in Aunt Petunia, I'm sorry. She doesn't care.  
  
They're sorry I even exist. Sometimes I'm sorry I exist. I don't   
  
know how to tell Ron and Hermione and you obviously have enough   
  
problems without being burdened with mine." Harry turned away.  
  
"He's going to kill everyone I love. He wants to take everything   
  
away from me first. Then he'll kill me and they'll put my brain in  
  
a tank at the bloody Ministry of Magic-"  
  
He looked so lost.  
  
"You said my strength lies in my heart, but I don't see how. My   
  
heart is broken."  
  
Dumbledore felt such pain, deeper than himself, in his soul.  
  
"They tried to break us last year," he said. "They failed."  
  
And then he wrapped his arms around Harry and held him against his heart,  
  
so close, he felt as if they were one.   
  
"No," Harry said,trying to get away,but he was one strong old man.  
  
"You can't-" A team of wild horses wouldn't have been able to break  
  
Dumbledore's grip. "I can't let you care about me,and you can't let   
  
yourself, anymore, you'll die, he'll kill you if you do-"  
  
"If I have to choose between caring about you or turning my back   
  
on you to save my own life, there's no choice," he said,in a fierce,  
  
shaking whisper. He could feel the heat rising from within himself,  
  
washing over Harry like warm water. "I'd rather die than not love you."  
  
He could see the horrified look on Harry's face.  
  
"You love me?"   
  
"Yes," he said.   
  
It was truer than anything he'd ever known and he could say it.   
  
"I always have," he said. "Always."  
  
"You can't. I can't-" Harry began to say it again,"I c-" and his   
  
voice cracked. He hung his head, and the tears just started to flow.  
  
He sagged into Dumbledore, buried his face in the old man's   
  
wondrous silver hair,and let out fifteen years worth of grief.  
  
Dumbledore just held him, and stroked his hair away from his eyes.   
  
-------  
  
"How do you feel?"   
  
"I feel...great."  
  
Harry had stopped crying after awhile; Dumbledore had not let him   
  
go. "You know,this isn't the first time I've held you."  
  
"You carried me out of the chamber-"  
  
"I was there when you were born."  
  
"You were?"  
  
"Oh,yes. While your mother slept, I held you, rocked you, and sang to you.   
  
I think my singing voice may have made you cry once or twice."  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
Dumbledore laughed with him.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley hugged me. Now you're hugging me," he said."Hermione kissed me on the   
  
cheek two years ago. Cho kissed me last year. Angelina kissed me a week ago-"  
  
"Angelina Johnson kissed you?"  
  
"After our last match. She followed me into the locker room-"  
  
"Into the boys' locker room?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Gutsy, that Angelina."  
  
"Is it normal to use so much tongue?"  
  
"You didn't...go any further,did you?"  
  
"No, she just kissed me and left."  
  
"Ah. Well...good."  
  
"Angelina's cool."  
  
"She is quite nice," Dumbledore said.   
  
Someone sped by on a bicycle.  
  
"This place is so beautiful," he said.  
  
"We can stay here all day,if that's what you need. I won't leave   
  
you. Unless one of us really has a biological emergency."  
  
Again, Harry laughed.  
  
"I'm going to keep making you laugh," he said.   
  
"You know,Professor...you're my constant," Harry said. "One of   
  
them,anyway."  
  
"Now YOU'RE quoting from THE X FILES."  
  
"Uncle Vernon made me watch it. His favorite show." Harry said."He  
  
always said 'See what the Americans do to your lot.' There was  
  
that one with the plastic surgery witchcraft thing..."  
  
"One of my favorites," Dumbledore said. "I believe the   
  
title is 'Sanguinarium.' I'll bet your uncle didn't like the way  
  
it ended, did he?"  
  
"That guy peeled his own face off," Harry said.   
  
"'I think this patient is finished...'"  
  
Harry laughed again. It was getting easier and easier.  
  
"I like the funny ones best," Harry said. "But there are the  
  
really sick ones like the one with those brothers...they were  
  
inbred mutants-"  
  
"Yes,yes,'Home.' Quite gruesome. But wonderfully written."   
  
"After awhile,I started to like it. Uncle Vernon had to   
  
watch it in another room after that. For awhile,it felt like  
  
I'd gotten through...like I had a home. But Hogwarts is my  
  
home,Professor. I can't help thinking of it like that."  
  
"I also think of it that way,Harry. You know...Someone's going to   
  
have to talk to that man. Maybe me."  
  
"Well,Aunt Petunia's trying a little,I think. Dudley...oh man.  
  
I don't really talk to Dudley anymore. He's gotten...scary."  
  
"Scary in what way?"  
  
"He formed a band," Harry said. "Jack and The Rippers."  
  
"Jack and The Rippers?" Dumbledore's mustache twitched. "Is he Jack?"  
  
"He talks about wanting to cut people up...He's started listening to...Professor,  
  
are you familiar with black metal?"  
  
"I am," he said.  
  
"I thought you liked chamber music."  
  
"Well,Harry,I'm not culturally ignorant."  
  
"Of course not," he said. "I didn't mean to imply-"  
  
"I know," Dumbledore said. "No apologies neccessary. I am quite  
  
familiar with black metal. There are one or two pieces I find quite   
  
beautiful-Satyricon's 'Immortality Passion,' for instance. It's not my favorite   
  
branch of the heavy metal tree,I must admit. Does he listen to a band called  
  
Mayhem?"  
  
"Mayhem? Yeah. I've found their CDs lying around the house."  
  
"Well,their guitarist was known by the name Dead,which became  
  
quite ironic when he killed himself."  
  
"Dead killed himself?"  
  
"Oh,yes. He...well,he blew his brains out with a shotgun. His bandmate   
  
Euronymous-real name Oystein Aarseth-broke into Dead's house,and found the body.  
  
He took some pictures,one of which appears on one of their CDs-"  
  
"They used it for a CD cover?"  
  
"Oh,yes. That's not the end of the story. Euronymous also made a  
  
necklace out of some of Dead's teeth,and I think he also ate some  
  
of Dead's brain matter, as well."  
  
Harry was lost for words.  
  
"Then Count Grishnackh,their vocalist, I believe-also known as   
  
Varg Vikernes-murdered Euronymous."  
  
"He did?"  
  
"He did. Stabbed him through the back of his skull. Said he was a   
  
traitor to the scene. He also may have been involved with a   
  
spate of church burnings. He's in jail now...best place for him,  
  
even if prison is a country club over there...In addition to being   
  
a murderer,he's also an anti-semite and a racist. He does a one-man  
  
band called Burzum in prison. I've never listened to it."  
  
"I can see where you'd have a problem with it. Is the band still together?"  
  
"With new members,yes. They're known for decorating their stage   
  
performance with pigs' heads on spikes. The Norwegian black  
  
metal scene has a bloody history...just last week,some black metal  
  
musician whose name escapes me at the moment brought a severed   
  
head to someone's birthday party. It was all over the news. Did  
  
you see it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Grisly business,over there. Grindcore is much less dangerous. No  
  
one's ever died in the name of the music. Have you ever found any   
  
Napalm Death CDs lying around?"  
  
"Yeah,actually,I have. He was playing some,and this other band  
  
called Circle Of Dead Children...I liked it. It's not as violent  
  
as black metal,is it?"  
  
"I've never heard of anything like that happening in that   
  
particular scene-"  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"I almost forgot," he said. He reached into a pocket. "I bought  
  
you something."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"While I was searching with Mrs. Norton-isn't that funny."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"They have Mrs. Norton. We have Mrs. Norris. Even if she is a cat-"  
  
"I didn't notice," Harry said.  
  
"Well,it's an interesting note,but Harry,what I wanted to say  
  
before I rudely interrupted myself was that after I searched the  
  
microfiche, I went and browsed the at the book sale,and...I bought   
  
you a book."  
  
"...really?"  
  
"One of my favorites. A book that never fails to raise my spirits."  
  
"You bought me a book?"  
  
"I certainly did."  
  
"Well...thank you."  
  
"You're quite welcome."  
  
He gave the book to Harry.  
  
"'The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy.' Harry read.  
  
Before he could read further, he saw a flurry of wings.  
  
Hedwig landed next to him on the bench.  
  
"Hedwig," he said.  
  
There was a thick envelope tied to her leg.  
  
"Sorry," Harry told her. He took the envelope.  
  
"Who would be so unkind to an owl?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Harry ripped open the envelope and pulled out a piece of  
  
paper.   
  
"Harry Potter,you may have already won ten million dollars..."  
  
----  
  
Dumbledore had been gone for about five minutes; he had had a   
  
biological emergency. He had also taken Hedwig,saying he'd send  
  
her back to Hogwarts. Harry sat there,watching the people go   
  
by, calmed by the water. He did not realize the old man had   
  
sat down until he spoke.  
  
"You know,I used to feed the ducks right here."  
  
Harry turned. There was another old man sitting next to him; he   
  
was a slight whisper of a man,thin and drawn, as if he had been  
  
sad for a long time. He wore a green jacket and matching shirt,   
  
brown corduroy pants and leather loafers. He looked tired.  
  
He's going to die soon, Harry thought,and shivered.  
  
"What happened to them?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Harry pointed to the edge of the water.  
  
"What about those ducks over there?"  
  
"Not the same ducks," he said. He offered his hand; Harry took it.  
  
"Joe," he said. "Joe Banks."  
  
"Harry Potter."  
  
"English, huh?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm a born Springfieldian,myself. 'Course,I've been all over. I   
  
always end up back here...but the ducks ain't here no more. I miss   
  
'em."  
  
"They must have been really special."  
  
"Oh,yeah...Harry...can I call ya Harry?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Harry,these ducks were like old friends. They knew when I was   
  
happy, when I was sad,and I could tell when they were having a bad   
  
day, too. We really got to know each other...I wish I knew where   
  
they were."  
  
"Have you looked around the park?"  
  
"This is where we used to meet," Joe said. "If they want me...they   
  
know where to find me."  
  
"Right here," Harry said.  
  
"Right here," Joe repeated.  
  
"You really loved those ducks."  
  
"Oh,yeah," Joe said. "The thing is...did they love me?"  
  
---  
  
Overhead,on the street, a car sped by the park.  
  
A short jolt of pain passed through Harry's forehead.  
  
By the time he reached the top of the hill, the street was empty.  
  
---  
  
Considering they made drills at Grunnings,the place was rather quiet. On   
  
the outside,it looked like the kind of misshapen monstrosity seen only   
  
in the very worst of nightmares.  
  
Dumbledore made himself invisible and walked right in. He searched the  
  
directory and found Vernon Dursley's office. He rode the elevator up to   
  
the floor where Vernon worked. He passed various faceless people in the   
  
hallway. There were pictures on the walls of drills and prototypes of drills that   
  
looked absolutely terrifying. There were all sorts,too. Dentists' drills,   
  
pneumatic drills, drills for use in excavating oil, high-speed drills for use in   
  
brain surgery,and so many more,Dumbledore was sure there was a corporately cold,  
  
efficient guided tour or at least a catalogue detailing and explaing every last   
  
one of them. Dumbledore knew Jeffrey Dahmer had used drills on his victims; he  
  
couldn't help wondering what kind of perspective Vernon might have gained had   
  
the man had switched from Makita to Grunnings. Probably none at all,because he  
  
was thicker than a Honeydukes milkshake.  
  
He found Dursley's office easily. He was there. He was eating a gigantic,  
  
bulging sandwich, a huge,greasy hulk of meat slapped together between two thick   
  
slices of bread, and slopping half of it onto his desk. There was also a cup of   
  
coffee nearby. Dumbledore averted his eyes.  
  
Maybe Vernon would choke to death right in front of him. That certainly would  
  
have been convenient on a number of levels. He felt certain that Vernon Dursley  
  
would turn to adipocere when he died. Some people, their flesh just turned to soap   
  
upon death; it had even been an issue in a movie Dumbledore had seen awhile ago-  
  
FIGHT CLUB, if he recalled the title correctly.   
  
"Vernon?"   
  
At the door, a young blonde woman struggled to stay upright. She looked like   
  
she had serious trouble walking and thinking at the same time. If her dress were  
  
cut any lower-  
  
"Yes, Candi, what is it?"  
  
He said it so lightly,Dumbledore wanted to materialize in front of him and   
  
smack him across the face. Talk to HARRY that pleasantly, you blob of walrus   
  
blubber, he thought. How you ever-  
  
"I think the copier's broken."  
  
Vernon sighed. He put the sandwich down and followed Trina out of the room.  
  
Dumbledore took the flask out of his pocket and dumped its contents into the coffee.  
  
A minute later,he came back with Tina or Mina or whatever her name was hanging   
  
all over him.  
  
"-it does help to check if the machine's plugged in," Vernon told her.  
  
He sat down again.   
  
"If you need any more help,just come back. My lunch hour's almost up."  
  
Only an hour, Dumbledore thought. I'd think he needs at least that long  
  
to find his neck.  
  
Vernon picked up the coffee mug.  
  
"Would you like some coffee,Trina?"  
  
Dumbledore tensed.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want it?"  
  
"Here," he said,and gave it to her.  
  
She took a long drink.  
  
Bullseye, Dumbledore thought.  
  
"There's something wrong with this coffee," Trina said.  
  
"Is there?" Vernon asked. He took the cup from her and took several sips.  
  
"Tastes fine to me."  
  
"Yes,well..." she stopped talking,and looked at Vernon,as if she were seeing him  
  
for the very first time. "You know,every time I come in here,I can't help but  
  
notice the smell..."  
  
"The smell?"  
  
"You know what pharaoh...phermon...pheromone. Pheromones. Do you know what  
  
pheromones are,Vernon?" She ran a hand through her hair, and the other across  
  
the neck of her skirt. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead. "Animals recognize   
  
each other by scent, did you know that?"  
  
"I knew that," Vernon said,crawling onto his desk. "Come here."  
  
"I come in here and you always smell awful," she said. "Try taking longer showers."  
  
"WHAT? Are you telling me-"  
  
"I'm telling you...what am I telling you,I'm so CONFUSED...God,I HATE you,Mr.   
  
Dursley,I've been wanting to KILL you ever since I MET you-"  
  
"You can't possibly hate me more than I hate you," Vernon snarled. "And I really,  
  
REALLY loathe you. You can't type worth a damn. You can't even turn on a   
  
light switch without looking at the bloody manual first. I detest you so much,I  
  
can't stand it any more. It terrifies me,how much I hate you." He backed into the   
  
wall,slid to the floor,clapped his fat hands over his ears, and started screaming.  
  
She collapsed against the doorframe and put her hands over her face, so she   
  
couldn't see him. And if she couldn't see him, he couldn't see her,because   
  
it was like that when you worked for the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal.  
  
Dumbledore had seen enough. It would get repetitive as the day went along.  
  
---  
  
When Dumbledore came back, the sky had darkened.  
  
He had not come back alone.  
  
"Madame Hooch," Harry said.  
  
"Mr. Potter," she said,bowing her head.  
  
"This is Joe," Harry said. "Joe Banks."  
  
"Mr. Banks," Dumbledore said,nodding.  
  
Joe just smiled.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked Madame Hooch.  
  
"I thought I'd go for a run," she said. "I ran into the Headmaster. I'm glad  
  
I did,because I have a problem and he advised me to ask you."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"There's a match tomorrow," she said.  
  
Harry slapped his forehead. "I completely forgot."  
  
"Since you'll be here, Gryffindor needs a replacement. The   
  
Headmaster suggested...Neville Longbottom."  
  
"Have you told Neville yet?"  
  
"I wanted to get your permission."  
  
"Let him try it," Harry said.  
  
"I'll do my best to prepare him," she said. "Excuse me."  
  
She Disapparated.  
  
"Neville playing Quidditch," Harry said."Never thought I'd see that."  
  
"Mr. Longbottom has the potential," Dumbledore said.   
  
Thunder rumbled in the distance.  
  
"Looks like it's going to rain," Harry said.   
  
"Fortunately,Hedwig got a head start."  
  
"Maybe we should go," Harry said. "Before it rains,I mean."  
  
"It's just water," Dumbledore said. "Of course,around here..."  
  
"Then we'd better go," Harry said. "Mr. Banks-"  
  
"I didn't see or hear nothin'," he said. "No one would believe me,otherwise."  
  
There was a granite path leading up to the street.  
  
"Have you told Neville about the prophecy?"  
  
"Not yet," Dumbledore said.   
  
"He should know."  
  
"Yes, he should."  
  
They reached the street.  
  
Another rumble of thunder unrolled.   
  
After it faded, a bolt of lightning streaked through the sky.  
  
"We're going to get rained on," Harry said.  
  
"Do you still have the envelope Hedwig brought?"  
  
Harry gave it to him.  
  
A moment later,it became an umbrella large enough for them both.  
  
"Now we're prepared," Dumbledore said.  
  
Then something across the road caught his attention.  
  
There was this fenced-in field of dirt, and past that was a   
  
building with a marquee that held a jumble of letters. MOVIES WITH   
  
BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS,it read. The name of the place was also prominently  
  
displayed: AZTEC.   
  
"Would you like to see a film, Harry?"  
  
"Sure," Harry said. "It's going to rain, why not?"  
  
"Have you seen many films?"  
  
"No," Harry said. "The Dursleys took me to one once...I think  
  
it was called THE DARK CRYSTAL or something like that..."  
  
"That's it exactly. Wonderful film. Did you like it?"  
  
"Well...they spirited me out,in the middle."  
  
Dumbledore frowned.  
  
"I don't know what happened,if I caused it,but...the...the Skekses?"  
  
"That's them."  
  
"They became self-aware."  
  
"They did?"  
  
"They tried to break out of the movie and they were hissing 'Let  
  
us owwwt...' at everyone in the audience. One of them saw me and   
  
he started asking me if I was the..." Harry stopped in his tracks.  
  
"The what?"  
  
"The one foretold by the prophecy."   
  
A drop of water spattered the pavement.   
  
"Come on," Dumbledore said. He opened the umbrella.  
  
As they entered the Aztec, it began to rain.  
  
"Then there was BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. Dudley hated it, but I   
  
loved it."  
  
"That one's a masterpiece," Dumbledore said. "Made me cry like a   
  
baby,too."  
  
"What are you showing?" Harry asked the guy behind the counter.  
  
"Whatever's in the projection booth," he said.  
  
Dumbledore bought their tickets.   
  
The theater itself was spacious; there were a multitude of seats.  
  
"I prefer to sit in the exact center," Dumbledore said.  
  
Harry followed him to the exact center of the theatre and sat  
  
down next to him.  
  
"Have you seen a lot of films?" Harry asked.   
  
"Whenever possible," Dumbledore said. "There's a theatre in Cleveland,Ohio  
  
called the Cleveland Cinematheque. I love that whole city. It's so culturally  
  
diverse. Over the summer, I went to see The Cleveland Chamber Symphony. But I  
  
digress.I've been to Cannes more times than I can remember,for their film festival.   
  
You know I thrive on intellectual thought...philosophy...creativity...I find films  
  
are as important to me as great literature, because they can be great works of art,   
  
and they're important to me. I am honored to share this one with you."  
  
Harry smiled. His facial muscles were getting the workout   
  
of his life.  
  
The lights went down.  
  
Sound began to fill the room; underwater noises.  
  
Then,a single ominous musical note. Brief.  
  
On the black screen, names went by. Harry did not recognize any of them. Then,  
  
they were underwater. The single note became two. Then three.  
  
And then the music broke loose,and a single word appeared on  
  
the screen.  
  
JAWS.  
  
----  
  
Fawkes felt the fire coming.  
  
He sang one last note to Lisa.   
  
She had had pets before; he could tell.   
  
Don't be afraid,he thought.  
  
Harry had been so scared,the first time.  
  
Dumbledore was used to it.  
  
How he loved them both. He thought of them-  
  
-even as he burst into flame.  
  
Lisa jumped,but didn't scream.  
  
What a sweet little girl, Fawkes thought as he burned.  
  
"Leeeee-SA..."  
  
Someone was calling her from outside.  
  
She looked torn.   
  
She glanced out the window.  
  
"Ralph?"  
  
"Hi,Lisa." Ralph called. "Is your room on fire?"  
  
Fawkes screeched,and launched himself towards the open window.  
  
"Oh no-"  
  
-and Ralph saw the living flame burst from Lisa's room; it floated down,  
  
and he had the strangest urge to touch it, to be one with it-   
  
"Ralph,STOP-"  
  
Ralph plunged his hand into the fire.  
  
He pulled it out.  
  
His entire arm was burning and he just grinned at it.  
  
Fawkes chirped,reborn.   
  
"Look at me,Lisa," Ralph said. "Look what I can do-"  
  
Lisa, frozen at the window, watched a plume of fire spray from Ralph's fingers,  
  
twisting and turning in midair,undulant,spelling her name.  
  
---  
  
The lights came up.  
  
"One of my favorites," Dumbledore said,beaming.  
  
He stood up.   
  
Harry looked up at him.  
  
"Did you like it,Harry?"  
  
"I have to kill the monster," Harry whispered.   
  
Dumbledore said nothing.   
  
"Do we go now?" Harry asked.  
  
"When the movie is over," Dumbledore said,"everyone leaves. I  
  
like to watch the credits. Sometimes there's more after the credits."  
  
Harry stood. An usher walked into the theater. He was Harry's age,  
  
wearing a sour look; his hair was dyed black and he wore a ring in his  
  
nose,in his chin,through his eyelids and through his lower lip. Dumbledore had seen   
  
body piercings that would make this kid faint.  
  
"Is there anything to clean up?" the usher asked.  
  
"We didn't bring anything to eat," Harry said.  
  
"I forgot the popcorn," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Our popcorn machine's on the fritz."  
  
---  
  
The place was called The Happy Sumo. It was just down the street from the Aztec.  
  
They walked there,dry in the driving rain.  
  
Their waiter's name was Akira. He was a quiet but affable guy with heavy eyelids  
  
and a slim build; he moved as if he were dancing. Once they were seated,he   
  
gave them their menus.  
  
"They have a selection of oriental cuisines," Dumbledore said. "Take  
  
your pick."  
  
"I don't know what any of this is," Harry said. "Could you help me?"  
  
"Certainly," Dumbledore said. He studied his own menu. "Let's see...we  
  
have kung pao chicken, which is delicious, as is sesame chicken. Blowfish.  
  
Well,I've seen them,but never eaten them...ah. Nikujaga."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Meat and potatoes,basically. Here's tempura...fried seafood."  
  
Harry flashed down to the desserts.  
  
"Pig's blood on a stick?"   
  
Dumbledore nodded,then: "Ah. Vietnamese. If you'd like to try pho, that's   
  
beef noodles. Com dep is grilled rice."  
  
They ended up sharing a huge plate of mu shu pork, sesame chicken, rice-fried and   
  
com dep style, mushrooms, and other assorted vegetables.   
  
"I hope you liked it," Dumbledore said,when the plate was empty.  
  
"It was delicious," Harry said.  
  
They had each been given a fortune cookie.  
  
Dumbledore cracked his open. He pulled out the little slip of paper.  
  
"What does it say?" Harry asked.  
  
"Beware of those without eyes," Dumbledore said. He raised his eyebrows. "What  
  
does yours say?"  
  
Harry opened his cookie and unfolded the slip of paper.  
  
"It doesn't say anything," Harry said. "It's blank."  
  
---  
  
The rain had stopped; the sun had come out. They stepped into the   
  
shadow-bright afternoon.   
  
"Look for a rainbow," Dumbledore said. "There's still time."  
  
Harry looked rather worried.  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"My fortune," Harry said. "What does a blank fortune mean?"  
  
"I think it means that your future is open," Dumbledore said.   
  
"That I have a future," Harry said.   
  
"Of course,it could also mean that there's a disgruntled worker at the   
  
fortune cookie factory from whence the fortune came. I think I prefer   
  
my original interpretation,don't you?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Something else is bothering you."  
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
"Well,what is it?"  
  
"My mom and dad...they really hated each other."  
  
"Oh,yes."  
  
"I never thought of them that way. I've been having doubts..."  
  
"There's one fact I can import that'll put an end to your doubt."  
  
"What's that?" Harry asked.  
  
"The fact that you exist," Dumbledore said. "I told you before that I knew James.  
  
He wasn't a saint,but he was-"  
  
Behind them,brakes squealed.   
  
Harry turned in time to see a dark van coming their way.  
  
It squealed to a stop right in front of them.  
  
The side door rolled open.  
  
A fat man jumped out. Harry reconsidered the word "fat" as soon  
  
as he thought it. He was big,but he was well-built. If he was   
  
fat, it was almost muscle,but not quite. He had gray hair and  
  
wore a dark gray suit. His eyes were creepy; they were like steel.  
  
"This them,Tony?" the driver asked. There was also a guy in the  
  
passenger seat. He had a rough,bony face and a ponytail.  
  
"This is them,Louie." Tony said. Harry knew he'd hear that voice   
  
again, in his dreams.  
  
"Sir, I assure you-"  
  
"Shaddup," Tony said. "Get in the van, old man."  
  
"I'll do no such thing," Dumbledore said.  
  
Suddenly there were three guns pointed at Harry.   
  
Dumbledore looked absolutely furious.  
  
"Don't point those at him," he said,without raising his voice. "Point them at me."   
  
"Get in the van," Tony said. "Or we'll send the kid to Disneyland."  
  
"Professor-"  
  
"Fine," Dumbledore said. "Just don't hurt the boy."  
  
Tony shoved Dumbledore into the van. "I'm drivin'," he told   
  
Louie. "Get out,Legs."  
  
Louie didn't argue. He got out of the van. The other guy opened  
  
the door and hopped down to the pavement. Then he slammed the   
  
rolling side door shut. Harry got one last look at Dumbledore,  
  
as he reached out,his fingers shaking-  
  
Instead of his usual defiance against evil-  
  
he looked terrified. Not for himself. For Harry.   
  
Harry launched himself at the van. The guys pushed him away.  
  
Tony got into the drivers' seat. He slammed the door.  
  
Then the van sped away,down the street.  
  
Harry felt something coming back. It was anger. Unlike the   
  
misdirected anger of last year, this felt righteous. This   
  
felt GOOD.  
  
"If you hurt him-"   
  
"Shut the kid up, willya Louie?"   
  
He glared at Legs.   
  
His ponytail came loose.  
  
"Huh?" Legs touched the back of his head.  
  
Then he shifted his attention to Louie.   
  
Louie swung his arm up at Legs and slapped him across the face.  
  
"What'dya do that for,ya dumb-" the rest of his words were lost  
  
as he attacked Louie. The fight spilled onto the ground and   
  
Legs growled something about a labonza-  
  
"What's a labonza?" Harry asked.  
  
"You wanna find out,kid? Jump in."  
  
"Okay," Harry said,and kicked Legs in the shin.  
  
"Ow," he said,and then spat out a long string of Italian   
  
profanities. "You-"  
  
"My labonza's waiting," Harry said.  
  
There was a squealing of tires as the van reappeared. In  
  
reverse, it stopped in front of them. The side door slid open.  
  
"-Again,I offer my apologies, sir," Tony was saying.  
  
Dumbledore stepped onto the pavement. Harry's guts nearly burst  
  
with happiness at the sight of him.  
  
"He give you any trouble,Tony?"  
  
"Nah," Tony said. "Look at him. What kinda trouble could he  
  
give anybody?"  
  
"More than you know," Dumbledore said. "Did you touch him?" he  
  
asked the other two guys.  
  
"Fuhgeddaboutit," Tony said. He shoved Dumbledore down to the   
  
pavement.  
  
Then the three of them jumped in the van and drove off, laughing.  
  
"Sir," Harry cried,rushing to his side.  
  
Dumbledore touched Harry's face. "They didn't hurt you," he said.  
  
"I'm okay."  
  
"Harry, I was so worried-"  
  
"I'm all right," he said. "How about you?"  
  
"If you're all right, then so am I."  
  
"So you're all right."  
  
"If you're all right."  
  
"I'm all right. Who were those guys?"  
  
"I don't know," Dumbledore said. "He-ugh,he stuck a gun right in  
  
my face. I loathe guns. He kept talking about me owing him money.  
  
Then he realized I wasn't who he wanted. What did those two-"  
  
"Nothing,they fought with each other."  
  
Harry helped Dumbledore up.  
  
"Such a beautiful day,too," he said.  
  
"We can't let them ruin it," Harry said.  
  
"You know, you're right,Harry. Just let me calm down."  
  
"Would you like to sit down?"  
  
"No,no...I think staying on my feet would be wise."  
  
"All right. Okay...would talking calm you?"  
  
"It always does."  
  
"What's your favorite part of JAWS?"  
  
"The photography," Dumbledore said. "The image of Quint,standing out there   
  
on the edge of the prow, as the sun goes down..." He took a deep breath. "Was  
  
it the prow? I know left is port and right is stern,but the rest-" He looked over  
  
at Harry. "What was yours?"  
  
"The part where he said 'You're going to need a bigger boat...'"  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"I keep remembering that usher," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Did you see that guy?" Harry asked,trying not to laugh. "I don't mean to   
  
make fun of him,those piercings obviously mean something to him. I can't   
  
imagine myself getting anything pierced. Tattoos,well..." He touched his   
  
scar. "This is the ultimate tattoo."  
  
"I have a scar too," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Just above my knee. It's a perfect map of the London Underground. I'll show you   
  
sometime."  
  
"Is it a curse scar like mine?"  
  
"No, I did it to myself by accident. I was lost. I needed a map."  
  
----  
  
"Speaking of being lost..."  
  
"We're not lost," Dumbledore said.   
  
"I don't mind if we are."  
  
"We aren't," Dumbledore said. "We're near Evergreen Terrace again,I can feel it."  
  
They passed the First Church of Springfield. There was a sign out front that read  
  
FRIDAY NIGHT BINGO CANCELLED DUE TO DEATH.   
  
"Professor, do you believe in God?"  
  
"In my life...I've known people who've made me want to believe in the   
  
existence of God, of Heaven and Hell, that Man did not create them. I've been e  
  
xposed to such a variety of religions, it's impossible to choose one. I've   
  
been to mass at Notre Dame Cathedral and one-room churches in the backwoods of   
  
Virginia. I've seen people handle snakes and mutilate themselves in the   
  
name of faith-"  
  
A man emerged from the front doors. He wore a pink shirt,dark slacks and   
  
the collar of a priest. His head was longer than it was wide and made him  
  
look awfully tired.  
  
He smiled when he saw Harry and Dumbledore.  
  
"I've been hearing about you," he said. "Reverend Timothy Lovejoy. You must  
  
be Headmaster Dumbledore."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you,Reverend."  
  
They shook hands.  
  
"Hope you like our little town," he said.  
  
"It's not so little," Harry said.   
  
Reverend Lovejoy laughed.   
  
"Well, I don't want to keep you," he said. "See you later."  
  
"Right," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Headmaster,hang on a second."  
  
Reverend Lovejoy ran back to the front doors. "C'mon,boy," he said.  
  
A big dog nearly knocked him over on its way outside.  
  
"Fang," Harry yelled.   
  
Fang knocked him over and licked his face.   
  
"We've been feeding him all day," Lovejoy said.  
  
"Hagrid will be happy," Dumbledore said. He scratched Fang's ears.  
  
"Should we take him back now?"  
  
"I think so," Dumbledore said.   
  
---  
  
On the way,they came upon Kwik-E-Mart.  
  
"I've got such a hunger for chocolate," Dumbledore said.  
  
"So do I. We could take Hagrid some,too."  
  
"Splendid idea,Harry."  
  
"How much money did you bring?"  
  
"Enough for the week."  
  
"I don't want you to waste it,that's all."  
  
"We haven't wasted a cent yet. Don't feel bad about spending it. I have more money than   
  
I need,really. I could buy a funny hat and there'd still be enough to last until   
  
Monday. In fact,remind me to find a funny hat, Harry."  
  
"There could be one in there," Harry said,pointing at the Kwik-E-Mart.   
  
"Chocolate and a funny hat, then?"  
  
At the doors, Dumbledore told Fang to stay. He did.  
  
They went inside.  
  
"Evening," Dumbledore said to the man behind the counter,who was an Indian.  
  
Harry had never really been in a convenience store before, but he didn't  
  
feel overwhelmed. Everything around him was there for the taking.   
  
There was a guy looking at the candy rack; he wore a white leisure suit,sunglasses,  
  
and a purple shirt He had a huge head of curly hair. He barely glanced at Harry.  
  
"'Scuse me,kid," he said. "Disco Stu needs to refuel the machine..."  
  
"Who's Disco Stu?"   
  
He ruffled his suit, and got out of Harry's way.  
  
Harry stepped past him; then to his surprise,he saw Disco Stu again,standing  
  
in the aisle. He looked back,and saw the same man. Then he grinned. "Tonks," he said,  
  
and when he looked back,there she was,she of the spiky pink hair,combat boots, old   
  
torn jeans and a faded t-shirt that read CANNIBAL CORPSE.  
  
"Wotcher, Harry."  
  
"How long have you been here?"  
  
"A while," she said. "Me, Remus and Kingsley have been walking around. Dumbledore  
  
didn't say anything because he doesn't know."  
  
"I certainly know now," Dumbledore said, behind her.   
  
"Right," she said. "We've been wandering around like you two. We had kind of  
  
an emergency last night."  
  
"Is Remus all right?"  
  
"I'm okay."  
  
Harry turned. "Remus," he said,and hugged him.  
  
"Hey,Harry," Lupin said,giving Harry a squeeze. He looked ill, like always.  
  
"Where's Kingsley?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"He's watching the Wiggum house," Tonks said. "We saw that pyrokinetic kid   
  
shoot a wall of flame out of nothing. He's been on them ever since,along  
  
with the guy he just recruited. Teresias something."  
  
"Teresias Marledge," Dumbledore said.  
  
"What's going on in this town, anyway?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Dumbledore said. "There's so much happening, it's become a   
  
meaningless jumble. But something's about to happen. Something big. I'm glad you're   
  
here." He and Lupin nodded at each other.   
  
"Right, thanks," Tonks moved sideways and took out a stack of Little Debbie snacks.  
  
"Please refrain from destroying the merchandise,or I'll blow your head off," the   
  
clerk said.  
  
"I've heard about these things," she said,picking them up. "Made up of chemicals."  
  
"'Scuse me,Remus," Harry said.  
  
"Of course," Lupin said.  
  
The doors slid open. "Ha," said Moody. "You finally show up," he said. He   
  
nodded at Potter,and then joined the group.  
  
Harry had picked up a nice selection of chocolate bars and various candies.  
  
"I'll take some of this fudge," Harry said.  
  
"Oh,no,sir. I wouldn't. It's been there for a year."  
  
Hagrid probably wouldn't care,but Harry figured he deserved more than   
  
year-old fudge.  
  
"Hey," the clerk said,"If you guys are not buying anything,get out."  
  
The group shuffled out of the store. "I'll be right outside," Dumbledore said.  
  
Harry paid for the candy,and was given change.  
  
He was about to leave when someone he recognized emerged from the back.  
  
"Well,well,it is a small world," she said.   
  
"Have you met this man before,Manjula?"  
  
Man? Harry thought.  
  
"On the street," Manjula said. "Did you find the library?"  
  
"Yeah,we did," Harry said. "Thanks. I'm Harry,by the way. Harry Potter."  
  
"Manjula Nahasapeemapetilan. This is my husband Apu."  
  
He really must have cried a lot in Kindergarden.   
  
("NOW write down your LAST name,Apu!")   
  
"Nice meeting you," Harry said, and joined the others outside.  
  
------  
  
The streetlights blinked on; their shadows were long.  
  
------  
  
"Fang," Hagrid said,as the dog barreled into him. "Where'd yeh find 'im?"  
  
"They were feeding him at the church," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Bless 'em..."   
  
"I don't know," Harry said. "I guess we're still looking."  
  
Professor McGonagall came out of the hut.  
  
"She all righ',Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"She?" Professor Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Lisa Simpson," she said. "She saw Fawkes burn,Albus."  
  
"Is she all right?"  
  
"Go in and talk to her."  
  
Harry stayed outside. Dumbledore found Lisa inside the hut. She wasn't alone.   
  
She and Professor Snape were in the middle of a heated debate. She was sitting in   
  
Hagrid's chair,barely visible. Snape was on his feet.  
  
"I still say Machiavelli-" Snape was saying. Then he said. "Pardon me,Headmaster.  
  
Miss Simpson and I were having a most interesting discussion."  
  
"Could I talk to her alone,Severus?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"How were-"  
  
"I'm not certain what's been done to them," Snape said. "May I use Veritaserum  
  
on them tomorrow?"  
  
"Yes,you may,Severus. But exercise caution."  
  
Snape went to the cabin door.   
  
"This isn't over,Professor Snape," Lisa said.  
  
"It certainly isn't,Miss Simpson." he said, and went outside.  
  
Dumbledore flumped down on Hagrid's bed.  
  
"So...Fawkes consummated his Burning Day?"  
  
"It was so beautiful,Professor. It was like the fire was alive."  
  
"Where is Fawkes now?"  
  
"I gave him some of those treats...and then Professor McGonagall took him back  
  
to your office."  
  
"Good. Good."  
  
"Professor,that's not all. When Fawkes was burning, Ralph was there,too. He stuck  
  
his hand in the fire-I'm sorry."  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry about," Dumbledore said. "Where's Ralph now?"  
  
"I don't know,I guess he went home. He...well,it was so weird. He put his   
  
hand in and then pulled it out and his whole ARM was on fire...he shot this   
  
jet of fire into the sky and spelled my name with it."  
  
"If only I could've seen it."  
  
"You really should have," Lisa said. "It was so cool."  
  
"Well, I'm glad you saw it, Miss Simpson."  
  
He stood up.  
  
"It's getting late," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure anyone out there would gladly  
  
walk you home. I don't want your parents to worry."  
  
"All right," Lisa said.  
  
"And don't worry," Dumbledore said. "Someone will be watching over you."   
  
Outside, Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Hagrid were playing with Fang.  
  
Professor McGonagall was showing Moody the book she'd been reading.  
  
Snape-   
  
"Professor Snape,would you walk me home?" Lisa asked.   
  
You could've heard a pin drop.  
  
"Yes,Miss Simpson," he said. "I will."  
  
She reached for his hand.   
  
After a moment of hesitation...he took her hand in his.  
  
They left.  
  
"He just wants to win their argument," Minerva said.  
  
-----  
  
The sun finally set, and the water shone like glass under the moon.  
  
In the distance,a lighthouse stood,its light burning bright.  
  
Harry sat on the edge of the boardwalk,next to Dumbledore.  
  
The remains of their fish and chips sat nearby.  
  
"Maybe I'll go for a swim tomorrow," he said.  
  
"Is the water safe?" Harry asked.  
  
"I'll test it beforehand."  
  
A gentle spray floated through the air, clinging to them both.  
  
"It feels quite inviting," Dumbledore said.  
  
They sat there for awhile, again, in silence; it was enough,to be   
  
in each other's company.  
  
"That guy..." Harry said,after what felt like an eternity. He almost  
  
wished he could stay here. Dumbledore would never hurt him,he knew that.   
  
"What guy?"  
  
"His hair turned white."  
  
"Warren? What about him?"  
  
"What did you say to him?"  
  
"Well...I told him to leave town and if he looked back even once, I'd know   
  
about it, and I'd put the Hypertrophus Mobilius curse on...on his nether   
  
parts."  
  
For the hundreth time that day,Harry felt his jaw drop.  
  
"Then I had to explain it. He'd never heard of hypertrophy. I judge by your   
  
reaction that you do?"  
  
"I've heard about it," Harry said. "This guy choked to death on his own tongue  
  
when it got too big for his mouth. Then there was another case where this   
  
other guy...he needed three pant legs..."  
  
"Well,I explained that the afflicted area would grow and grow  
  
and most likely develop a separate consciousness and become independent of  
  
his control. Then his hair turned white."  
  
"You didn't even touch him," Harry said.  
  
"Words can be more powerful than the sharpest sword."  
  
Harry grew quiet again. There was another question; he didn't want to ask  
  
it, but he did.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Have you ever killed anyone?"  
  
"Grindelwald," he said, after a time.   
  
"Do you ever regret it?"  
  
Dumbledore turned his eyes from the water to look at him.  
  
"No," he said. "I don't."  
  
The water lapped against the pier.   
  
He his head against Professor Dumbledore's strong shoulder.  
  
A nightbird cried out in the darkness.  
  
---  
  
In the distance  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Yes,Harry?"  
  
"I just wanted to say...even if we didn't find who we were looking  
  
for,it doesn't matter...I had a great time today."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "As did I."  
  
"Most of it was fun."  
  
"That's what I meant,as well."  
  
"Who do you think Voldemort's contact is?" Harry asked.  
  
"I honestly can't say," Dumbledore said. "However,we did find ours."  
  
"We did?"  
  
"We certainly did."  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
"The fact that we did so without your noticing speaks volumes   
  
about our success in extreme discretion."  
  
"You can't tell me,even after we found...whoever it is?"  
  
"Think about it a while. I'm confident you'll guess."  
  
Harry began thinking.  
  
The pier creaked; the boats nearby bobbed,tied down.  
  
"Have you ever gone sailing?" Harry asked,still thinking.  
  
"A number of times," Dumbledore said. "That's how I learned to tie knots."  
  
That's what I'll do,Harry thought to himself. When it's all over,I'll  
  
sail away,it'll just be me and the water-  
  
Immersed in water, Harry kept thinking.   
  
Dumbledore began humming to himself.   
  
"What is that?" Harry asked.   
  
"Hmmm? Oh...it's from Handel's 'Water Music.'"   
  
"Could you hum some more of it?"  
  
Harry's thoughts now had a soft,lilting musical accompaniment.  
  
Finally,Harry smiled.   
  
"I know who it is," he said.  
  
"I'm sure you do," Dumbledore said.  
  
Heavy,slow footsteps echoed off of the pier.  
  
"Evening, Captain McAllister," Dumbledore said,without turning around.  
  
"Yarrr...how was yer dinner,prafesser?"  
  
"Delicious,thank you," he said.  
  
He hovered over them for a moment.  
  
Then,he sat down with them, gazing at the dark water. 


	30. Snakebite

These characters belong to J.K. Rowling and Matt Groening,except  
  
Teresias,who walked into my head and wouldn't leave. "Creepy Green Light"  
  
belongs to Type O Negative.   
  
30.  
  
SNAKEBITE  
  
THURSDAY  
  
One A.M.   
  
Not much irritated Kingsley Shacklebolt, but every time  
  
he went out in public,someone always mistook him for a muggle  
  
named Todd Tony. Or was that Tony Todd? He couldn't remember.   
  
They thought he was the same man,even though he had seen pictures   
  
of the man,who seemed to be an actor. Kingsley was bigger and there was the ring in   
  
his ear that was certainly unique to his person. His voice was deeper.  
  
He looked over at Teresias, a recent addition to the order. He  
  
was an American Dumbledore had found in his last sojourn to   
  
Cleveland. Teresias had once had his own face; however, he was a...  
  
Kingsley couldn't remember the word,but Teresias's face kept   
  
shifting; at times the flesh moved slowly and sometimes he went  
  
through a dozen faces a minute. He could switch or merge genders   
  
at the drop of a hat. The one drawback; he had no control over it.  
  
Kingsley had not asked him if the changes affected his entire body;  
  
it seemed pretty personal,being a man one second,a woman the next,  
  
then both and neither. He supposed Tonks had that problem. He   
  
didn't want to ask her if metamorphosing into a man-if she could-meant carrying   
  
male genitalia around.  
  
At one in the morning,someone came up the walk of the Wiggum  
  
house. She wore a plain green dress and her hair was like a   
  
blue,de-spined cactus.  
  
"Teresias," Kingsley whispered.  
  
Their base of operations was the house next door. There was a   
  
family of three currently occupying the place, but they were  
  
oblivious to the presence of Kingsley and Teresias. They were   
  
in the kid's room because it afforded a nice view of the Wiggum  
  
house. Teresias had been leafing through a magazine he found under  
  
the kid's bed when Kingsley called him. Never mind that the room  
  
was absolutely dark; Teresias could read without light. Not that  
  
he was technically reading at the moment.  
  
Teresias looked up; his jaw was cracking,grinding, as if it had  
  
dislocated itself and was attempting to realign itself with his   
  
new face. As Shacklebolt watched, Teresias opened his mouth and   
  
asked,"What is it, Kingsley?" in a garbled voice that kept changing  
  
pitch and timbre. Of course,it would be hard for anyone to talk   
  
while their face played hide-and-seek with itself.   
  
"Marge Simpson," Kingsley said. Tonks had posed as a Jehova's  
  
Witness and found out all they needed to know from that Ned   
  
Flanders fellow. No one was safe from Jehova's Witnesses,not  
  
even wizardkind.  
  
"What's...she...doing...there?"  
  
By the time Teresias finished his sentence,Marge Simpson was   
  
knocking on the door.  
  
--  
  
"Come on," Marge said,"One of you has gotta be awake."  
  
A light came on in the window.  
  
The door opened.   
  
"Marge?" Clancy Wiggum asked  
  
Marge felt that, during the time she had been on the police  
  
force, she had gotten to know the man a bit better. He could be  
  
thick-headed sometimes, and of course,he was corruptible...but  
  
he was also a good man who loved his family.  
  
Right now,he was wearing pinstriped pajama bottoms and a strapless white   
  
t-shirt. She had heard kids refer to a shirt like the one he wore  
  
as a "wife-beater," which really put her teeth on edge.  
  
"Can I come in?"   
  
"Marge,it's one in the morning."  
  
"Please,I need to talk to you."  
  
"Well...yeah,all right. C'mon in."  
  
He stepped out of her way.  
  
"Would you like some coffee,or something?"  
  
"No,no..."  
  
She had never really been in the Wiggum house. The living room  
  
was spare,but comfortable; a brown leather easy chair, a TV,  
  
a sofa near the stairs. A radio was playing somewhere in the   
  
house,probably in the kitchen,which was just off of the living room.  
  
"Siddown,would you?"  
  
Marge sat in the chair.   
  
The Rolling Stones were just finishing up "Mother's Little Helper."  
  
"Is Sarah up? She should hear this,too."  
  
"Sarah-"  
  
"Clancy?"  
  
Sarah Wiggum stood at the kitchen door, backlit in soft light.  
  
She always looked dollish; Ralph had inherited her wide,staring  
  
eyes and thankfully,only some of her voice. It was as if she   
  
had swallowed a duck while it was playing a kazoo. She wore a   
  
purple nightgown crawling with orchids. She looked like she'd  
  
been sleeping.  
  
"Marge?"   
  
"Sarah,good."  
  
"Marge,it's-"  
  
"One in the morning,I know. I couldn't wait."  
  
"Well,what is it?"  
  
"Ralph."   
  
"What about Ralph?"   
  
"Has he been...I don't know,acting weird lately?"  
  
"He said he had a headache yesterday."  
  
"Yesterday?"  
  
"When I picked him up from school. That old guy  
  
with the beard? He subbed for Miss Hoover yesterday-  
  
do you know what his deal is?"  
  
On the radio: Led Zeppelin: "Dazed And Confused."  
  
"Professor Dumbledore? He's a kind, gentle old man."  
  
"Ralph said he had a bird that made his head hurt."  
  
"Right," Marge said. "Fawkes. Lisa was taking care   
  
of him today,and I could tell he was sick-"  
  
"You think Ralph made Fawkes sick?"  
  
"Or,the other way around?" Sarah said. She and her husband   
  
shared a concerned look.  
  
"No,no...Look...you know I know about Ralph's..."  
  
"Yeah, I told you about Wiggle Puppy-"  
  
"I wish this was about Wiggle Puppy," Marge said. "Look,  
  
there are some terrible people interested in Ralph-"  
  
"Who are these people?" Wiggum asked,his eyes narrowing. "Did  
  
they come with the exchange project?"  
  
"Those people want to protect Ralph...look...you're going to  
  
think I'm nuts,but I saw something this afternoon-Ralph-"  
  
"Something Ralph did?"  
  
"Well,Lisa was taking care of that bird-"  
  
Above them,there was the sound of breaking glass.  
  
Sarah gasped.  
  
"Oh,great," Clancy said.   
  
Every light in the house went out.  
  
The streetlights shone into the living room.  
  
"Get out of the light," Wiggum said.  
  
Marge moved into shadow.   
  
She could feel Sarah next to her.  
  
Upstairs,an unmistakable sound; footsteps.  
  
"What-"  
  
"Shhhh..."  
  
Wiggum dropped to the floor.  
  
He crawled over the carpet,and braced himself against the door.   
  
He looked through the peephole.  
  
There were people gathered outside on the lawn.   
  
They wore black robes; hoods hid their faces.  
  
"Who are these guys?" he asked.  
  
"-and now,here's Type O Negative,off of their WORLD COMING DOWN  
  
CD...this is called 'Creepy Green Light' on KBBL..."  
  
For a moment,no one moved.  
  
"This Halloween...so unlike...any other..."  
  
Then one of the hooded figures started towards the door.  
  
Wiggum spun away; "Upstairs," he hissed at the ladies.  
  
"Upstairs?"  
  
Marge spun around-  
  
-and tripped over something in the dark.  
  
"Agh," she said,"Sarah-"  
  
A hand closed over her wrist.  
  
"Is that you, Sarah?"  
  
There was no response.  
  
"Sarah?"  
  
The grip on her wrist tightened.  
  
"Marge?"  
  
"Sarah-"  
  
"Up here."  
  
Sarah stared down on the second floor landing. Clancy was with her.  
  
Then whose hand-  
  
"GAAAH-"  
  
She threw her elbow back; she hit something solid,that fell  
  
away from her.  
  
"Don't be afraid...of the green...light..."  
  
"Get behind the couch," Wiggum hissed. Then he looked  
  
towards the door and vanished from sight.  
  
Marge got to her feet.  
  
For a moment,she stared at the door.  
  
"...of the green...light..."  
  
Marge dove behind the couch.  
  
"...of the green light..."  
  
The door creaked as it opened.  
  
The music began skipping.  
  
""Be afraid...of the green light...be afraid...of the green-"  
  
A dark shape stood on the threshold.  
  
Its shadow spilled into the room. In moments,it was joined by   
  
others.  
  
"This is the correct house,isn't it?"  
  
--  
  
"Ralph."  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
"It's me,Ralph. C'mon,get up."  
  
"I was dreaming," Ralph said.  
  
"Shhh. Whisper,okay?"  
  
"Okay." He looked out the window. "It's late."  
  
"Yeah,it sure is."  
  
The hallway was deserted. In the darkness,he could just  
  
make out Sarah's hair.   
  
"Watch Ralph a second," he said.   
  
Sarah bent down and picked up Ralph.  
  
He walked into the bedroom.   
  
It was definitely time to open the Forbidden Closet Of Mystery.  
  
--  
  
Sarah backed down the hall,daring anything to come up the stairs.  
  
She wished something would,just so the silence would end.  
  
"Hold on,Ralph," she said. He held on tight.  
  
She glanced at the picture of her mother,which had been  
  
hanging there forever. Clancy's father stared at her from the  
  
opposite wall. She stepped past them,wishing the floor would  
  
quit creaking.  
  
Sarah backed into the bathroom,holding Ralph.  
  
"They won't get you,honey," she said,"I swear."  
  
Behind her, the darkness moved.  
  
"Hi," Ralph said.  
  
Sarah spun around.  
  
A very deep voice said "Please don't scream, Mrs. Wiggum."  
  
"Who-"  
  
"My name is Kingsley. Kingsley Shacklebolt. I'm here to help.  
  
My partner Teresias is around here somewhere,too. You'll know him   
  
when you see him, trust me."  
  
The stairs creaked.  
  
Sarah looked out into the dark hallway.  
  
"Someone's-"  
  
"Shhhh. These guys are hardcore killers."  
  
"My husband's in the other room," Sarah said.  
  
"Daddy..."  
  
---   
  
The hooded figure reached the top of the stairs.  
  
On the landing,two others seemed to step out of a pocket of   
  
nothing. There were now three figures upstairs.  
  
Marge was wedged between the sofa and the wall.   
  
There were others in the room now,prowling,stalking.  
  
Then,one of the hoods upstairs began to speak.  
  
"We've kahm for dah boy," he said. He had an unfamiliar  
  
accent. Perhaps he was Polish or Russian or of Czech descent.   
  
"Geeve heem to me,and no wahn vill be hurt."  
  
He stepped away from the staircase.  
  
"Lumos," he said. The tip of his wand lit up,revealing an  
  
unpleasant,thin, twisted face,and malicious,cold eyes. He tapped   
  
the banister with his wand.  
  
"My name eeze Antonin Dolohov," he said. "I serve the Dark Lord.  
  
Resistance vill be met vith an unspeakably painful death, I   
  
promise you. I have two others vith me now,and more downstairs.  
  
Just geeve us the boy and you vill be spared."  
  
"All you want is Ralph?"   
  
The voice surprised both Dolohov and Marge.  
  
"That ees all, Chief Viggum."  
  
"What if I'm not prepared to give him up?"  
  
"You'll be revorded beyond your vildest dreams if you cooperate."  
  
"Yeah,just ask Barty Crouch's kid." Shacklebolt said.  
  
"What happened to Barty Crouch's kid?" Wiggum asked.  
  
"He's minus a soul."  
  
"Euugh."  
  
"Ees that you,Shacklebolt?"  
  
"It certainly is, Dolohov. You're not getting the kid without   
  
the fight of your life."  
  
"We are prepared vor a fight," Dolohov said.   
  
Something skittered across the carpet and stopped at Dolohov's feet.  
  
He picked it up.  
  
The figure on Dolohov's left gasped. "Throw it back,Dolohov-THROW  
  
IT BACK-"  
  
Instead,Dolohov turned. "Macnair,vot-"  
  
---   
  
Wiggum pulled the pin out of the grenade.  
  
He tossed it down the hall. It bounced end over end a few times,   
  
before it rested at Dolohov's feet.  
  
Dolohov did an absolutely amazing thing.  
  
He bent down-  
  
-and PICKED UP THE GRENADE.  
  
"Throw it back,Dolohov,THROW IT BACK-"  
  
He read the message,and then looked back at his comrade.  
  
Dolohov said "Macnair, vot-"  
  
"Maaarge,FIRE IN THE HOLE-"  
  
Wiggum threw himself back into the room.   
  
A second later, there was a huge explosion.  
  
---  
  
Pieces of Dolohov,Macnair and the other one-Jugson, if it   
  
matters-rained down into the living room.   
  
A fine red mist mingled with the smoke; it hung in  
  
the air. Marge hoped there was no blood on her.  
  
She had been hit by a piece of the railing; the  
  
stairs were now a mass of shredded wood.  
  
She didn't remember screaming at the explosion.  
  
Certainly,she hoped she hadn't.  
  
"Well,hello."  
  
Marge took her hands away from her eyes.  
  
Another one-the hood shadowed most of his face-she  
  
could make out bad skin,pockmarked like ruined chrome-  
  
stared at her from the top of the couch.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Marge," she said. "Marge Simpson."  
  
"Augustus," said the man.  
  
Marge smirked.  
  
"Your last name wouldn't be Gloop,would it?"  
  
He kept smiling.  
  
"I didn't understand that," he said. He pointed something at her.  
  
It looked kind of like the wands Professor Dumbledore's people   
  
carried with them.   
  
"Get up," he said. "Or die there."  
  
"Don't hurt me," Marge said.  
  
Then she brought her legs up and donkey-kicked him full in the face.  
  
With a surprised shout, he fell off of the couch.  
  
She stood up.  
  
"Who's next?"  
  
She roared it like a lioness.  
  
"STUPEFY!"  
  
An arm slipped around her waist.  
  
A burst of light blasted a hole in the wall, mere inches away;  
  
she felt the heat,even after she'd been yanked to safety.  
  
"Gaah-"  
  
---  
  
"Cover your ears,Ralphie. You too,Sarah."  
  
Ralph covered his ears. So did Sarah.  
  
Clancy Wiggum,in full body armor,stepped onto the remains of the  
  
second floor landing,away from the smear on the wall. He  
  
crouched down and looked through the scope,down into the dark,  
  
living room,which was foggy with plaster dust and smoke. Someone   
  
was coughing down there.  
  
No one was paying any attention to him.  
  
There was a standoff happening down there.  
  
Marge was with some guy-his face kept moving around,as if his  
  
skull were constantly reshaping itself. They were surrounded by  
  
at least three of the hooded figures. The guy whose face wouldn't  
  
stay still brandished a pointy stick at them. They,in turn,had  
  
pointy sticks of their own.  
  
"Marge?" Clancy called. "You all right?"  
  
"I'm fine," she said. "You got three of them,there are four-"  
  
"ADAVA-"  
  
Wiggum aimed at the general area from whence the voice had  
  
come and opened fire. He saw someone fall through the light   
  
streaming through the windows.  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
Then:  
  
"You shot Avery." There was anger in the voice, anger and   
  
sadness and then a scream of "ACCIO GUN-" and before Wiggum knew  
  
it the sniper rifle had been wrenched out of his hands.   
  
Wiggum reached for his backup revolver-  
  
-and the rifle roared. The pair of Kevlar vests he'd put on saved   
  
him; the force of the impact turned him around,teeth gritted. He   
  
heard a second shot,and a moment later,he felt such a pain in his ass and realized   
  
he'd been shot as he fell off of the landing and landed so hard  
  
on the floor that he bounced.  
  
"Clancy-" Sarah put a hand to her mouth.  
  
"Get down here," Augustus said.  
  
"STUPEFY!"  
  
The Death Eater who'd claimed Wiggum's shotgun went down,but   
  
not before he got off a shot that hit Kingsley in the shoulder  
  
and spun him around on his way to the floor.   
  
"I told you to come down here," Augustus said. "If you don't,  
  
I'll torture her."  
  
"Don't come down here,Sarah," Marge called.  
  
Wiggum moaned.  
  
"Then again-"  
  
He pointed his wand at Wiggum.  
  
"Crucio."  
  
Wiggum arched his back and screamed.   
  
He whisked the wand away.  
  
"How did that feel, Chief?"  
  
Wiggum failed to say anything coherent.  
  
"Now,come down or-"  
  
Sarah just looked at him,defiant.  
  
"Are you an idiot? Come down here this instant and no one-"  
  
"Whenever my husband's in a hostage situation," Sarah said, "He   
  
doesn't negotiate. No bargains. You won't get anything from me,  
  
either."  
  
"Oh,I think after a few Cruciatis Curses, you'll be begging me  
  
to just take the boy."  
  
"Surrender the boy,Mrs. Wiggum," said an unfamiliar voice. A   
  
rather bent man appeared out of the smoke.   
  
"Careful,Nott," Augustus said.  
  
"Rookwood,do shut up. She'll listen to reason. She must. I have a   
  
son of my own. I know I'd probably do the same thing you're-"  
  
He stopped in midsentence.  
  
Teresias had caught his attention.  
  
"It must be quite difficult trying to talk with a face like that,"  
  
Nott said.   
  
"Aghh..."  
  
"Nott-don't provoke him."  
  
"Oh,Augustus,really-what can he do?"  
  
Teresias's face was a maelstrom, a whirlpool of flesh.  
  
"Sometimes Dumbledore really amazes me," Nott said. "You'd  
  
think he'd be more selective. Why would he want to be associated  
  
with a thing like you? Oh,look,Augustus,his mouth is-"  
  
Teresias screamed "AVIS MALEFICIO-"  
  
and a flock of birds erupted from the tip of his wand.  
  
They attacked Nott. They swarmed around him and punctured  
  
his skin with their beaks. He whirled and twisted, finding  
  
the door. "Alhom-"   
  
He opened his mouth and one of the birds bit his tongue.  
  
Nott twisted the doorknob one way,and then the other. He  
  
managed to get the door open,and fell across the threshold.  
  
In a second,he was up and running,the birds on his heels.  
  
"Nott-" Rookwood called,rushing out the door. "Nott,come back-"  
  
Marge Simpson let out a wild yell and brought both her hands into  
  
the back of Augustus Rookwood's neck. He dropped the wand and   
  
in one fluid motion,Marge swept it off the grass and jabbed it   
  
deep into the center of his forehead.  
  
She backed away. The grass felt cool against her ankles.  
  
Rookwood began to convulse.  
  
He pulled the wand out of his head.  
  
Slowly,he turned to Marge.  
  
"Uh-oh," she said.  
  
"All you did was give me a third eye," he said.  
  
He pointed the wand at Marge-  
  
A jet of flame knocked it out of his hand.  
  
Rookwood screamed,clutching his charred hand.  
  
He looked up and saw the little boy.   
  
His arm was outstretched. The tips of his fingers were aflame.  
  
"That's what my mommy calls this," said Ralph. "Uh-oh."  
  
"How long have you been able to do that?" Sarah asked.  
  
"I don't know,the leprechaun won't let me."   
  
"The leprechaun? What leprechaun?"  
  
"You see?" Rookwood asked. "This is why the Dark Lord wants-  
  
AUUUGH, that hurts-that's...why he aaaugh...wants your son."  
  
"I don't care who wants Ralph,they're not getting him."  
  
Rookwood reached into his pocket.  
  
"Wrong," he said. He brought his hand out of his pocket.  
  
Marge saw the knife,but it was too late to move-  
  
"STUPEFY!"  
  
Rookwood flew across the lawn. He landed in the driveway,and   
  
didn't get back up.  
  
Two women were making their way towards the house. Marge had   
  
met one of them; she was walking with a cane now,but her gait  
  
was strong.  
  
"Professor McGonagall," Marge said.  
  
"Evening, Mrs. Simpson." It was as if they'd met at the movies.  
  
She glanced inside the house."Simply dreadful mess you've made   
  
here. I daresay I could have done worse, but not by much. Oh,  
  
by the way,this is Molly Weasley."  
  
"Hi," she shook Molly's hand.  
  
"You know her, Marge?" Sarah asked.  
  
"I know Professor McGonagall," Marge said.  
  
"She certainly does. I-"  
  
She saw the boy. Molly Weasley instantly smiled at him.  
  
"You're Ralph," she said, with her friendliest grin.  
  
Ralph nodded, and then laughed.  
  
"Mggh," Teresias said. "Gmmr-"  
  
Frustrated,he pounded the table.  
  
"Take your time," Dumbledore said.  
  
After a moment,the bones in his jaw seemed to  
  
coalesce with the rest of his face.  
  
"I can't do this," he said,in an impossibly low voice.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "If you don't feel ready-"  
  
"I duhhnt-"  
  
Dumbledore put his hands on either side of Teresias's face.  
  
"All your life,people have called you a monster,have they not? I  
  
know your landlady and your neighbors did."  
  
Teresias nodded. His flesh shifted under Dumbledore's fingertips.  
  
"I don't think you're a monster,Teresias. No one here does. I find   
  
you wondrous. You're not hideous, you're beautiful."  
  
Teresias would have cried if his tear ducts hadn't been inside  
  
his head at the moment.  
  
"I won't force you to remain in the Order if you feel you cannot." 


	31. Teresias

31.   
  
TERESIAS   
  
"Mggh," Teresias said. "Gmmr-"  
  
Frustrated,he pounded the table.  
  
"Take your time," Dumbledore said.  
  
After a moment,the bones in his jaw seemed to  
  
coalesce with the rest of his face.  
  
"I can't do this," he said,in an impossibly low voice.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "If you don't feel ready-"  
  
"I duhhnt-"  
  
Dumbledore put his hands on either side of Teresias's face.  
  
"All your life,people have called you a monster,have they not? I  
  
know your landlady and your neighbors did."  
  
Teresias nodded. His flesh shifted under Dumbledore's fingertips.  
  
"I don't think you're a monster,Teresias. None of us think so. I find   
  
you wondrous. You're not hideous, you're beautiful."  
  
Teresias would have cried if his tear ducts hadn't been inside  
  
his head at the moment.  
  
"Kingsley will be fine," Dumbledore said. "He's quite resilient. Chief  
  
Wiggum was hit with a Cruciatis Curse,as you know, but he's all right. You did   
  
quite well,my boy...I'd never even heard of the Killer Bird spell before tonight."  
  
Teresias smiled,even though his lips were dragging downward towards his chin,  
  
which was splitting into a cleft.   
  
"I won't force you to remain in the Order if you feel you cannot."  
  
He went back inside. Teresias looked up at the stars,trying to find his future. 


	32. Selma

None of these characters belong to me. "Bloody Mary" belongs to Cursed,who rock.  
  
The name "Eliphaz" comes from Eliphaz Moss,from John Bellairs's excellent THE FIGURE   
  
IN THE SHADOWS.  
  
  
  
31.  
  
SELMA  
  
I know it's wrong  
  
I know it's wrong  
  
I know it's wrong  
  
Now bring it on  
  
-Cursed,"Bloody Mary"  
  
Snape awoke, and found himself eye-to-eye with a lizard. It had  
  
been sitting on top of the couch. He remembered falling asleep  
  
right here,in the Simpsons' living room, but did not remember the   
  
lizard. It made a strange, throaty trilling sound, as if saying  
  
hello.   
  
  
  
"His name's Jub-Jub."  
  
She stood on the threshold between the kitchen and the living  
  
room; Snape could tell she was related to Marge Simpson.   
  
There were subtle differences,most notably her eyes; she looked   
  
terribly bored. Also, she held a cigarette between two of her  
  
fingers.  
  
"My name's Selma," she said.  
  
"Snape. Severus Snape."  
  
"Severus. I like that,it sounds like a command instead of a name.  
  
Sever us. Like something a doomed mountaineer would say."  
  
He sat up, and realized he'd slept in his clothes.   
  
"What time is it?" Snape asked.  
  
"Seven o'clock. You use the twenty-four hour clock,right?"  
  
"I have never liked the twenty-four hour clock."  
  
"Yeah," Selma said. "That thing's confusing. Fifteen o'clock...  
  
that just isn't right."  
  
She sat next to him. Jub-Jub crawled across the couch and   
  
sat in her lap. "Marge tells me you're a professor," she said.  
  
She put her hand on his knee.   
  
"My official title is Potions Master."  
  
"Potions? You mean like eye of newt, toe of frog, and all that?"  
  
"I wish my classes could always be so Shakespearean."  
  
Selma laughed.  
  
I said something funny, Snape thought.   
  
"With all those ingredients, I bet you're a good cook."  
  
"Indeed," Snape said.   
  
Selma grinned. Her teeth were yellow.  
  
Snape couldn't take his eyes off of them. They were like Madame Hooch's eyes.  
  
"Have you had breakfast yet?"  
  
"No," Selma said.   
  
  
  
"Is anyone else awake?"  
  
"It's just you and me and Jub-Jub."  
  
Snape arose from the couch. He swept past Selma,who breathed   
  
in the displaced air.  
  
"Would you care to join me?" Snape asked.  
  
"Oh,uh...yeah."  
  
She actually brought the lizard with her.  
  
"Here ya go,Jub-Jub," she said, turning him loose on the kitchen table.  
  
Snape opened the refrigerator.  
  
"Merlin," he said. "Look at all this beer."   
  
"Homer's," Selma said. She sounded disgusted.  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Not a fan of his, I gather."  
  
"Nope."   
  
She didn't elaborate.   
  
I wonder,Snape thought. What's Marge Simpson's addiction? Homer has beer and   
  
Selma's burning that coffin nail-  
  
"Here we are," Severus said. He pulled out the half-gone gallon jug of milk,  
  
along with a trio of eggs.  
  
"Need any help?"  
  
"No," he said. "I'm perfectly capable."  
  
"Yeah," Selma said. "I bet you are."  
  
Snape turned away from the counter,his eyes wide.  
  
Selma had already wandered out of the room.  
  
She's FLIRTING with me,Snape thought.   
  
He had absolutely no idea what to do.   
  
The egg in his hand cracked open, spilling the yolk into his hand.  
  
"Aggh."   
  
Egg yolk always reminded him of amniotic fluid. Once, he had served his father a   
  
drink with a chicken embryo floating around inside. He never even noticed.  
  
He tried not to think of his father while cooking. He knew the food would   
  
probably be ruined if he got on that train of thought.   
  
He felt strange; Selma had caught him with his guard down and had been nice to him.  
  
Snape had allowed her to do so.  
  
(Is she ATTRACTED to me? Here's a better question: Am I attracted to HER?)  
  
Behind him, the microwave exploded.  
  
"Oh,no..."  
  
The knives on the wall block began vibrating.  
  
Oh, bloody hell, Snape thought. I DO find her attractive-  
  
A jet of water erupted from the sink.  
  
(How long has it been, Severus?)  
  
The refrigerator door was blown off of its hinges. Inside, every can of   
  
Duff had combusted spontaneously.   
  
Snape pulled a chair away from the table.  
  
He sat down; the chair fell apart, as did the table.  
  
Snape sat there a moment,too stunned to do anything. He had wanted at least to try   
  
to be a gracious guest. Guests did not destroy their host's kitchen.   
  
He put his face in his hands; after a moment, he realized his face was slathered  
  
with egg yolk.  
  
"Whoa."  
  
Snape looked up at Selma.  
  
"I just wanted to make breakfast," he said.  
  
Selma crouched down in front of him.   
  
She touched his hand.  
  
The toaster blew up.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Snape just shook his head.  
  
Next thing he knew,she was wiping the yolk from his face.  
  
"Look...you should probably go. I'll clean up."  
  
"No, I-"  
  
"I insist," Selma said. She pulled him to his feet,then took him by the arm  
  
and led him out, through the living room and out the front door.  
  
"See you," she said, and closed the door on him.  
  
As he made his way to Springfield Elementary,Snape was so involved in denial-  
  
"I am NOT enamored of that woman,she means NOTHING to me-" that he failed to  
  
notice the powder-blue Chevy Malibu following him. It pulled ahead of him, and  
  
stopped on the corner, in Snape's path.  
  
A man got out of the car and walked over to the passenger side. He leaned  
  
against the car,pulled a knife from his pocket and began to trim his fingernails.  
  
His head was extraordinarily long and thin; Snape tried to imagine what his   
  
skull looked like. His eyes were rather round and heavily lidded. His hair-dark   
  
red; it was as if a poinsettia plant had sprouted,ha ha, Professor Sprout  
  
did this to him-out of the top of his head. He wore dark jeans and a shirt that   
  
read ICH ESSE MEIN KOPF across the front.  
  
"Hello, Severus," he said.  
  
"Do I know you, sir?"  
  
"Oh,you will, if you hurt Selma..."  
  
"You know Selma, do you?"  
  
"I was married to her."  
  
"Did she divorce you?"  
  
"Well, I tried to kill her." He offered an apologetic shrug. "Headed over to the   
  
school?"  
  
"Yes,I am," Severus said,leaving out the "sir" this time.  
  
"The name's Bob."  
  
"Bob?"  
  
"Bob Terwilliger." He grinned. "Folks around here call me Sideshow Bob."  
  
"Indeed," Severus said. Was everyone in this town insane?  
  
"Ask Bart about me," he said. "He'll tell you everything-"  
  
He sliced too deeply into the last nail.   
  
A drop of blood welled out of his finger.  
  
Bob then unleashed the most diabolical laugh Snape had ever heard. Being a Death  
  
Eater had exposed him to some of the most diabolical laughter known to man, and   
  
felt like a capable judge.  
  
In one fluid movement, Sideshow Bob slipped through the passenger window and   
  
plunked down into the driver's seat.   
  
"See you around,Sever-man."  
  
He left Snape standing in a cloud of dust.  
  
"Bloody psychotic Americans..."  
  
I know scarier people than that, Snape thought. But not many.  
  
How could Selma have been married to him?  
  
Of course,she's attracted to ME,so that explains a lot-  
  
The lamppost above him exploded, showering the pavement with glass.  
  
Other than that, the journey to Hagrid's cabin was uneventful. The morning  
  
was overcast, just the way he liked it. The only improvement would have been  
  
a sheen of fog. Moisture without rain. If it were going to rain, he preferred  
  
great earth-shaking thunderstorms.  
  
Finally,he came upon Springfield Elementary,which was deserted-   
  
-except for Professor Sprout. She sat on the geometric metal structure-the  
  
jungle gym?-freely swinging her bare feet through the air. Her boots lay sprawled   
  
on the ground below. In fact,she had pulled her leaf-green robes up past her knees.   
  
It was the first time he had ever seen her legs; they were fleshy and thick. He felt   
  
like an interloper, witnessing something ancient and forbidden.  
  
She saw him.  
  
"Morning, Severus," she said, practically singing, and dropped to the ground.  
  
He bowed. "Professor Sprout," he said. He didn't feel comfortable calling her by her  
  
first name. Even if she spent her time crawling around in the dirt, she carried   
  
herself with a grand, crusty elegance that commanded his respect. Earth Mother,  
  
he thought.   
  
"I'm rather glad you're here," he said.  
  
"I just wanted to see Hagrid," she said, with a polite smile.  
  
"And I must to go back to Hogwarts," he said. "Professor..."  
  
"Is something troubling you, Severus?"  
  
"I am rather troubled."  
  
"Well, I'll try to help you, if I can."  
  
"There's...a woman."  
  
Her face lit up.  
  
He wasn't surprised when she burst into laughter.  
  
"Go on. Laugh. Her name is Selma." He closed his eyes. "She's a Muggle."  
  
"Selma what?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know what to do."  
  
"Ask the Headmaster. He's the ladies' man."  
  
"Are you serious?"  
  
"Well,he is married,but he still knows how to treat a lady-"  
  
"Shhh," Snape said. "No personal information. The less I know about everyone  
  
in my life, the better. All I know of you is what I see."  
  
"You didn't attend the last Yule Ball," Sprout said. "That man can dance."  
  
"Dancing?"  
  
"An enviable skill."  
  
"I...can't...DANCE."  
  
"You can cook, though."  
  
Snape sat down on the slide.  
  
"I...well,I believe the Muggle term is totaled? I totaled their kitchen."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"Without even touching anything."  
  
"Happens to the best of us," she said.   
  
"Professor-"  
  
"Addie, Severus. Call me Addie."  
  
"I don't feel worthy enough."  
  
"How very Arthurian of you."  
  
"Yes, well, there was a round table in the kitchen and I flattened it."  
  
She laughed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to-" She lost herself  
  
in laughter. "Oh...Severus,the whole kitchen?"  
  
"Most of it," he said. "Why is this happening to me?"  
  
"You ask that as if it's horrible. It isn't, Severus, it's wonderful, what you're  
  
feeling. I know it must be difficult for you."  
  
"I've never felt like this before, Professor. I didn't know that I could."  
  
"The fact that you are is evidence enough. We always knew you would."  
  
"We?"  
  
"All of us. Me, Minerva, everybody. We're behind you."  
  
"I suppose that's reassuring."  
  
"I'm not trying to suddenly cause you to have some sort of miraculous epiphany.  
  
I'm just being honest."  
  
"I appreciate your honesty."  
  
"My only real issue with you is Neville Longbottom." and Harry Potter,but  
  
she didn't say it. "I know you think the lad's hopeless, but I know differently."  
  
"I'll believe it when I see it."  
  
She nodded. "That's all I ask."  
  
Snape scooped a handful of sand from the bottom of the slide. They watched it  
  
run through his fingers.  
  
"What about you?" Snape asked. "What attracts you to Hagrid?"  
  
"Well, let me count the ways, as it were...he's kind-"  
  
"I know that."  
  
"-he's not judgemental-"  
  
"I know that."  
  
"-he's easy to talk to-"  
  
"Right."  
  
"-he's not an abusive monster like my ex-husband-"  
  
"Didn't know that."  
  
"-it had to be said. He's always making me laugh-"  
  
"He's made me smile."  
  
-he's gentle as a-"  
  
The door opened.  
  
"Well," Hagrid said,stepping down to the grass, "I been scopin' out the woods and   
  
there's this nice, quiet spot where we can-oh, hey, Professor Snape..."  
  
"Hagrid," Snape said.   
  
His respect for Hagrid was boundless.   
  
"Did yeh eat yet?"   
  
"Not yet," Snape said. He lifted himself off of the slide.  
  
"Food's inside," Hagrid said. "Eat whatcha want."  
  
"It's rather crowded in there."  
  
"Yeah," Hagrid grunted.   
  
Hagrid patted Snape on the shoulder as he passed. Snape's knees buckled a bit,  
  
but he managed to stay on his feet.  
  
He opened the door to a curious scene.  
  
Potter was asleep,in Hagrid's bed. That was how Snape liked Potter best. Draped   
  
over him was a big yellow blanket. The Headmaster was seated in a chair by the  
  
bed, concentrating only on Potter. Professor McGonagall had thrown herself back in   
  
Hagrid's chair,still reading the book she'd started three days ago.   
  
He closed the door; the room darkened,and he saw three people, asleep against  
  
the wall-two very stout adults,and between them, a child.  
  
"You know-"  
  
Albus looked over at Snape, smiled,and put a finger to his lips.  
  
"You know," Snape whispered,"I assumed that blanket was for Fang."  
  
Minerva clicked her tongue in disgust.  
  
Then,visions of Potter doing doggish things appeared in his head.   
  
They amused him.  
  
"When he wakes up, ask him if he had the urge to chase cats," he said.  
  
Minerva rolled her eyes.  
  
"He might not have to study Occlumency with the help of this blanket," Albus said.  
  
"Well,then-" He looked over at the strangers. "Who are these people?"  
  
"Well, Severus, the child is Ralph Wiggum."  
  
"THIS is Ralph Wiggum?"  
  
"And his parents."  
  
"So we're protecting them now?"  
  
"Yes, Severus, we certainly are. Did you know there was going to be an attack?"  
  
"No, I didn't."  
  
"Their house was beseiged by Death Eaters last night."  
  
"And they're still alive," Snape said, shaking his head in amazement.  
  
"Antonin Dolohov, Haagen Macnair, Jupiter Jugson and Eliphaz Avery  
  
are dead. Luther Nott is missing, and Augustus Rookwood is in custody."  
  
Snape was impressed.  
  
"They subjected Ralph's father to a Cruciatis Curse, and so he is resting. They  
  
also managed to wound Kingsley, but he'll be fine."  
  
"I need to go back to Hogwarts," he said. "For the Veritaserum."  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
How does he always know?  
  
"Well...no."   
  
Severus hung his head.  
  
"What did you do, Severus?" Minerva asked.  
  
"Marge Simpson has a sister named Selma-"  
  
"And another one named Patty," Albus said. "But go on."  
  
"I think Selma may be attracted to me-"  
  
He heard the book fall into Minerva's lap.  
  
"-and I fear the feeling could be mutual."  
  
They both stared at him for a moment, unable to speak.  
  
"Well," Minerva said, "Severus, I knew this day would come,eventually-"  
  
"Albus, I seek your counsel in this matter."  
  
"Why not mine?" Minerva asked, with a malicious grin. "You see, Severus, when   
  
a man and a woman love each other-"  
  
"Minerva, really."  
  
"Running back to Hogwarts won't solve anything," Dumbledore said. "You must  
  
confront these feelings, Severus. We'll discuss this later."  
  
"I'll be back with the Veritaserum."  
  
"Here," Albus flipped a round rubber ball into his hands.  
  
"Portkey?"  
  
"No," Minerva said. "It's for playing catch."  
  
Snape gave her his friendliest lip curl.  
  
"I'll be back," he said.  
  
The portkey activated.  
  
"Our Sevvie's all grown up," Minerva said, succumbing to a fit of witchy laughter.  
  
---  
  
"C'mon," Bart said. "Burp."  
  
The gargoyle unleashed a thirty-second belch.   
  
"Happy?" It asked.  
  
"Oh,yeah."  
  
"Mr. Simpson."   
  
Bart whirled around.  
  
"I've been searching you out," said Professor Snape.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Did you eat breakfast?"  
  
"Sure," he said.  
  
"I ran into someone in Springfield...he said to ask you about him."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"He called himself...Sideshow Bob."  
  
Bart screamed.  
  
"I gather from that scream that you aren't friends."  
  
"He's my arch-nemesis," Bart said. "One of them,anyway."  
  
What? "How many do you have?"  
  
"Forget it. You met Sideshow Bob?"  
  
"Not an hour ago. He said to ask you about him."  
  
"Because I've foiled every one of his nefarious plans, that's why."   
  
"He said he tried to kill your aunt. Has he ever killed anyone?"  
  
"That's the thing about him. Technically,he's never actually killed anybody."  
  
Snape smirked.  
  
"Have you?"  
  
"Oh,yes," Snape said. "But back to the subject. He said he married your aunt?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"How many times has your Aunt Selma been married?"  
  
"Twice,I think. To Sideshow Bob. I thwarted him."  
  
"Well...good for you."  
  
"Then there was Troy McClure."  
  
"Troy McClure?"  
  
"You might remember him from...nah,I guess you wouldn't, would you?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Oh...well,he just married her to further his career. And to settle the rumors  
  
that he was sexually attracted to fish."  
  
"...fish."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Fish?"  
  
"Fish."  
  
"I wonder if there's a term for that..."  
  
"I looked it up. Ichthy something."  
  
"Ichthyphilia,I suppose."  
  
"Guess so," Bart said. "Did you meet Selma?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Simpson, I did."  
  
"You liked her,didn't you?"  
  
"...yes,I did, Mr. Simpson."  
  
"Did you watch MACGYVER yet?"  
  
"I've never even heard of MACGYVER."  
  
"She loves it. You wanna get anywhere with Selma, you gotta love MACGYVER."  
  
"I'll look into it," Snape said.   
  
The gargoyle hiccupped. 


	33. Bouncing Around

None of these fine people belong to me.   
  
32.  
  
BOUNCING AROUND  
  
"HI, everybody!"  
  
"Hi, Dr. Nick..."  
  
Nick Riviera had come right to work from court. Judge Snyder had  
  
let him off with a warning. How was he supposed to refuse a kid  
  
who just wanted a balloon, even if it had been used to inflate   
  
his grandfather's colon? A roomful of balloons took most of the trauma out   
  
of a barium enema-really,it did.   
  
"You're late," the receptionist said. He couldn't remember her name. Her   
  
nametag read SIEGLINDA, which was definitely wrong.   
  
"I'm always late," he said.   
  
"There are some people in the examination room. Been here since last night."  
  
"Anybody seen them?"  
  
"They've been waiting for hours. Three of 'em...a husband-and-wife team who fell  
  
off the second floor of the Sleep-Eazy and some guy...a flock of birds pecked the  
  
living crap out of him. As far as I know,they're still writhing in agony in there.  
  
As far as I can tell, none of them have insurance and they tried to pay me with  
  
these..." she gestured to some coins on her desk. Riviera picked one up.   
  
"What kinda metal is this?"  
  
"I don't know...the guy-goes by the name of Lucius Malfoy. Sounds like Dickens.  
  
Lucius MALFOY, can you believe that? His wife's name? Get ready for this...Narcissa."  
  
"Sounds fake," Nick said.   
  
"Takes one to know one."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"He called these things Galleons."  
  
"You explained we only take cash?"  
  
"Right. But they're in bad shape, Nick. They've been in there screaming. It's  
  
weird,he screamed for two hours, and then there was a minute of silence, and then  
  
she started up..."  
  
"How about Hoover?"  
  
"Janet Hoover's been moved to a private room. Her temperature is still elevated."  
  
"I told her to go home yesterday."  
  
"She can barely move."  
  
"And I wrecked our ambulance." Riviera shrugged. "Okay, I'll go look."   
  
There was no one in the waiting room.  
  
Usually it was full of people who'd swallowed their car keys or had live animals   
  
Superglued to their faces. All the chairs were free; the lights in the ceiling  
  
flickered as he crossed the room. He opened the door-  
  
LAST NIGHT  
  
"Lucius? Are you conscious?"  
  
It felt rather funny using Lucius's mouth while he was out.  
  
He opened Lucius's eyes, forced his ears to pop.   
  
Finally, he woke up.  
  
"I feel strange," he said. "Like I'm floating."  
  
"They gave you morphine," Voldemort said, through Lucius. "Every bone in your  
  
body is broken."  
  
"Look at me," Lucius said. "I look so strange..."  
  
There was a broken bone jutting through his trousers. His other leg was  
  
bent at a very ominous angle. His arms seemed to be on backwards.  
  
"Can you heal me, my Lord?"  
  
"I don't think you want me to heal you."  
  
Lucius stared out the window,and saw only blackness.  
  
"I can't move my neck," Lucius said.  
  
"Because it's broken, genius."  
  
"They didn't even put us in body casts," Lucius said. He looked over  
  
at Narcissa. "Is she dead?"  
  
"I'll check," Voldemort said. "Be back in a second."  
  
Lucius felt the Dark Lord vacate his body.   
  
After a moment: "No, she's still breathing."  
  
Strangled, Lucius thought. Pushed off of a building. Splinched. Dragged under  
  
the wheels of one of those Mack truck things. Chopped to bits and mailed to   
  
strangers-  
  
-and then Voldemort was back in his body.  
  
"Please heal me, my Lord," Lucius said.  
  
"All right," Voldemort said. "I'll do it."  
  
"Thank you, my Lord."  
  
"It's going to hurt."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"Lucius...when I say it's going to hurt, that's an understatement. If...I...  
  
tell you something's going to hurt...It's going to HURT. Not that I care, I'm   
  
just giving you fair warning."  
  
Skinned alive. Scalped. Beheaded. Poisoned-  
  
The bones in his legs began to knit back together.  
  
Voldemort had been right.  
  
Lucius screamed.   
  
His shattered ribs began mending.  
  
-and screamed.   
  
Slowly,torn internal tissues healed.  
  
-and SCREAMED.   
  
Nobody came to see what was wrong.   
  
No one would come.  
  
They had laughed at his money.  
  
He had no contacts here.  
  
In a few hours, when it was done, Lucius curled up into a fetal ball,gritted his  
  
teeth, and had a bout of uncontrollable weeping.  
  
Voldemort entered Narcissa. She screamed even louder than Lucius.  
  
Again, no one came.  
  
No one would come.  
  
No one cared.  
  
They really were alone.  
  
NOW  
  
Janet Hoover woke up; she groaned. The intense pain in her head had   
  
still not abated. Dr. Riviera had wondered aloud if there was an earwig  
  
eating her brain, and she'd tried to explain that earwigs just didn't  
  
do that sort of thing, but her words went right over his head.   
  
(Whoosh!)   
  
She wished she could afford real medical insurance. On her salary, she  
  
could either eat or send a monthly money order to some insurance company.  
  
She just wanted to go home. She kind of missed work,too. It wasn't the same  
  
not seeing the kids, every day...oh, who was she kidding? A day away from those  
  
kids is like a vacation on the French Riviera. She had an entire room all to herself,  
  
and a television,too. Right now, JERRY SPRINGER was on. The topic of today's show:  
  
"My Dad's A Ninja Assassin." The battle royale onstage included the guy, the guy's   
  
family and families of his victims. At one point, somebody got past the clutches  
  
of Steve the security guard and launched themself at the ninja dad,who didn't   
  
even get up. He just threw a dart into the other guy's neck. The guy crumpled to the   
  
floor and the audience cheered.  
  
The door on the far end of the room opened.  
  
Nick Riviera stopped at the head of her bed.  
  
"Hey, Dr. Nick," she said.  
  
Then she looked in his eyes.  
  
They looked like-  
  
"Dr. Nick...what's wrong with your EYES?"  
  
They were red now, with abyssal slits.  
  
"Nothing," he said,in his normal voice.  
  
Then, in another voice, he said, "She'll do."  
  
Janet tried to move; her head throbbed,blurring her vision.  
  
Dr. Nick's face seemed to warp and stretch, as if he were made of   
  
rubber and someone were pulling the sides of his head in different directions.  
  
His fingertips brushed over her face.  
  
"This won't hurt a bit," he said.  
  
---  
  
Of course, there was a problem with this body.  
  
Voldemort found that out rather quickly.  
  
During his time at Hogwarts, in his second year, his Defense Against The Dark  
  
Arts teacher had been a warlock named Professor Sour. His Ancient Runes teacher   
  
went by Professor Hott. Hott's class came right before Sour's. Hott and Sour.   
  
Anyway, Professor Sour suffered from terrible migraines. Sometimes, they were   
  
so bad they made him hallucinate. He had learned that this was an actual medical  
  
condition known as an aura. Before he knew that,though, he'd had hours of   
  
entertainment watching Sour spurt glossolalic nonsense and convulse and beat his  
  
head against his desk until the day he tried to chew off his own tongue.  
  
This Janet Hoover woman had terrible pain in her head. He had mended Lucius and  
  
Narcissa's bodies; they would probably be in shock for awhile, but that certainly  
  
wasn't his fault. Even if it was his fault, he honestly didn't care. They could   
  
be replaced. He wasn't sure Miss Hoover's pain could be assuaged so easily. Whatever  
  
was wrong with her was deeply ensconced in her head.   
  
As luck would have it, someone stormed into the building as he was walking  
  
Hoover out. He was a little man with thick bifocals and curly black hair.  
  
"Are you the receptionist?"  
  
"She must've gone to the bathroom."  
  
The little man fumed. "She better get back soon. I'm rich, I shouldn't have to  
  
put up with this crap. You know, I went over to the regular hospital and they   
  
told me I don't have any insurance, which isn't true. I have so much insurance,  
  
they renamed the company after me. They told me I had to come over here-"  
  
"And your name is?"  
  
"Artie. Artie Ziff."  
  
Voldemort smiled. He said,"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ziff," and when  
  
Ziff turned to look back at the entrance, he clamped her hand down on the top of   
  
the rich man's head. 


	34. The Forest

Pardon this shameless bit of self-promotion,but a bit of news about Boneyard Press's   
  
SEX CRIMES anthology: I just found out my story-"All The Pleasures Of The Flesh"-will   
  
contain illustrations by none other than Bernie Wrightson. The lineup for this  
  
antho is amazing. Wayne Allen Sallee, David J. Schow, Christa Faust, and a whole  
  
slew of other very talented writers. Coming in October,from Boneyard Press.  
  
These characters, of course, do not belong to me. They sprung from the heads of   
  
J.K. Rowling and Matt Groening.  
  
33.  
  
THE FOREST  
  
Willy woke up with leaves in his mouth.  
  
He sat up, and spat them out.  
  
For a moment, he just sat there.  
  
"How'd I get here?"  
  
The trees around him were twisted and dying; in some places, they were   
  
burnt, bent, like elderly men with crooked spines. Sunlight shone through  
  
them, illuminating the wide circle in the dirt. He was careful not to step on any of   
  
the symbols etched within the circle.  
  
There was a note stuck to one of the trees.  
  
WILLY,  
  
Last night was amazing. As I write this, I am still tingling.  
  
You don't remember anything because I erased your memory.  
  
Sorry.  
  
The circle is there for your protection.  
  
When you leave, run.   
  
I have included arrows as per the quickest   
  
route out of the forest.   
  
See you later.  
  
The note was signed MADAME X.  
  
Willy tried to remember last night. Of course, he couldn't.  
  
"'Cause me memory's been ERASED," he said, rolling his eyes.  
  
As far as he could tell, he was alone.  
  
He took a step outside the circle.  
  
Nothing attacked him.  
  
A few feet in front of him, an arrow had been burnt into the ground.  
  
He found another one a few feet away.  
  
"I ain't running," he said to himself. He didn't care what else heard him.  
  
Run. Right. There's nothing here, he thought. But something was   
  
calling me-  
  
He came to a small stream. On the other side, there was another arrow.  
  
Willy rolled up his pants.  
  
Then he stepped into the shallow water, which was pleasantly cool.  
  
He bent down,closed his eyes and splashed water on his face.  
  
Then, he took a long drink, opened his eyes-  
  
-and saw someone watching him from under the water.   
  
He yelled,surprised, and threw himself backwards.   
  
It rose out of the water; at first,he thought it looked like a clown. Its bloated  
  
face was rich with color, vivid purples and blues. Rags hung loose from its flesh.  
  
In some places, cloth and skin were one, spreading over the surface of the water  
  
like a jellyfish's tendrils.  
  
It shuffled towards him; its eyes had burst, but it was almost on top of him.  
  
It's tracking me by smell, Willy thought, or maybe it feels me movements in the   
  
water-  
  
From behind, he felt hands close over his shoulders.  
  
Willy was yanked to his feet.  
  
"Funny meeting you here," Professor Chillinger said.  
  
"Is this funny?" the man on the left said.  
  
"Funny? That's not funny," said the man on the right.  
  
"What in the hell is it?" Willy asked.  
  
"It's called a draug," said the center man.  
  
"Norwegian," came from the right.  
  
From the left: "Spirit of a drowned man. Or woman,I can't really be sure..."  
  
"Wasn't buried properly. Not the nastiest the forest has to offer, but very,   
  
very close..."  
  
"What're we gonna do?" Willy asked.  
  
"Hit it with the shovel?" the man on the left said.   
  
He showed Willy that he was carrying a shovel.  
  
"All we have to do is get out of the water," Chillinger said. "This is a  
  
water draug. They can't follow us onto land. If there are any land draugs   
  
around, they'll fight with the water draug."  
  
Willy edged towards the other side of the stream.  
  
The draug bared its teeth. When it growled, water spilled out of its mouth.  
  
"Oh,Gaawwwd..." the man on the right moaned.  
  
"Stop simpering," the center Chillinger said.   
  
"I can't. That's what I do, I run around screaming-"  
  
"Then scream silently."  
  
Willy edged his way onto the dirt.   
  
The draug threw its head towards the sky. Willy expected it to howl, but  
  
all it did was gurgle.  
  
"Get out of here," the middle man said.  
  
"What about yeu?"  
  
"I'll be fine. Just go before-"  
  
The sound of hoofbeats reverberated around the forest.  
  
"Oh, damn," Chillinger said.   
  
"What?"  
  
"The centaurs," Chillinger said. "They'll kill you if-"  
  
Willy's gaze traveled upwards.  
  
"-they find you,now run-what is it?"  
  
Chillinger turned. A group of centaurs stood on the other side of the stream.  
  
All of them held a combination of bow and arrow.  
  
"Well," said one,with very dark hair. "Professor Chillinger."  
  
"Morning, Bane."  
  
"That's not Bane, is it?"  
  
"It's Bane."  
  
"We have repeatedly warned you not to enter our domain."  
  
"Oh, right. I forgot you'd laid claim to the entire forest."  
  
"I do not know this one."  
  
Bane crossed the stream. The draug had vanished.  
  
"M'name's Willy."  
  
"Willy," Bane said, testing the name. Then his eyes widened. "You were the  
  
one making all the noise last night. You kept us all awake."  
  
"M' memory's been erased," Willy said. "Can't remember nothin'."  
  
"How very convienient." Bane said. "You may go. Professor Chillinger   
  
will not be joining you."  
  
"I ain't leavin' without any of 'im."  
  
"You won't kill me," Chillinger said. "Not if you ever want to see Ronan again."  
  
Bane's nostrils flared.  
  
"Where is Ronan?"  
  
"Who's Ronan?" Willy whispered.  
  
"Put your weapons down," Chillinger said. "I'll lead you to him."  
  
The centaurs on the other bank did as he said.  
  
Bane looked like he wanted to put an arrow through Chillinger's head.  
  
"Do it," Chillinger said.  
  
Bane reached down to the ground.  
  
The instant he put his bow and arrow down, Chillinger tossed the shovel to Willy.  
  
Willy bashed Bane over the head.   
  
Bane fell to the ground with a WHUMP.  
  
By that time, Willy and Chillinger were fleeing.  
  
An arrow thwocked into a tree,right above Willy's head.  
  
He heard Chillinger cry out.  
  
"Don't stop, just get out of here-"  
  
Willy ran and ran, the sharp ends of branches stabbing his arms, his face. The  
  
trees stretched so tall, they blocked out the sun. He couldn't see any more   
  
arrows.   
  
The darkness was alive with noises so terrible he closed his eyes and covered his   
  
ears-  
  
-so he didn't immediately realize he'd cleared the trees.   
  
He opened his eyes and saw the castle in front of him, and before the   
  
castle, a great big expanse of green grass.  
  
"Willy?"  
  
Willy looked back.  
  
Two of the Chillingers were holding the middle one upright.  
  
There was an arrow in his back, right between his shoulder blades.  
  
"There's an arrow in my heart," he gasped. "I don't know how long   
  
I'll last."  
  
Willy now saw that the two other Chillingers were fading in and out of   
  
existence.   
  
"The id and the ego and the superego...none of them can exist without the others...  
  
If I die...they'll die, as well...help them get me to the castle-"  
  
"I'll get ya there," Willy said. He waved off the men. Then he slung Chillinger  
  
over his shoulder and carried him towards the castle, the other two fading, but  
  
still following. 


	35. Lily

None of these people belong to me.   
  
  
  
35.  
  
LILY  
  
She found him sitting at the edge of a bottomless waterfall.  
  
"Hello, Harry."  
  
Harry looked up.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
She sat down beside him and hugged him.  
  
"It's me," she said.  
  
"Did I die in my sleep?"  
  
"No, you didn't. It's your dream. But I'm really here. Your dad and Sirius are  
  
here,too." She rolled her eyes. "They went cow-tipping."  
  
"Cow-tipping?"  
  
"Your dreams are always so big. This one has a pasture full of cows. They couldn't  
  
resist."  
  
Harry smiled.  
  
"Can I come with you, when you go?"  
  
"You're going to live a long and wonderful life, Harry. You cannot follow us."  
  
"I miss you."  
  
"We've never left you. Someone very,very wise told you that."  
  
Harry   
  
"I would answer all your questions,if they were mine to answer. It's your   
  
dream. This shirt,for instance. Look at this."  
  
Harry looked. The letters G E C were printed-a green and white background over red-  
  
on Mom's shirt.  
  
"Do you know what this means?" She asked.  
  
"No," Harry said.  
  
"You will," she said.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"There is one thing I can tell you."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I was going to let Sirius tell you this, but I think I'll tell you myself. Did  
  
he ever tell you about the time he turned Lucius Malfoy's butt into a portkey?"  
  
---  
  
"Did 'e jus' laugh?" Hagrid asked.   
  
"Oh, yes." Sprout said.  
  
"He certainly did," Dumbledore said.  
  
Hagrid grinned at Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"Come here and look at this, Minerva."  
  
"I can see perfectly well from here, Albus."   
  
"Mom," Harry said,turning on his side.  
  
Hagrid had to wipe his eyes dry. He could hear   
  
the others blowing their noses.  
  
In a minute, Harry opened his eyes.  
  
"How'd yeh sleep, Harry?"  
  
"I talked to my mom..."  
  
"She was there?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Yeah," Harry. He sat up. "It was just a dream, though."  
  
"Harry, no." Dumbledore said. "If she was there, then she was  
  
really there."  
  
Harry thought about that.  
  
"Breakfast is on the table," Dumbledore said. "I'll be outside,  
  
should you need me."  
  
"So will we," Professor McGonagall said, and nearly fell out of the chair. She   
  
steadied herself, one hand over her heart. Professor Dumbledore held the door open  
  
for her and Sprout, and then followed them outside.  
  
When the door closed, Hagrid,laughing, lifted Harry into the air and twirled him   
  
around the room. It was a miracle Harry's legs didn't destroy anything.  
  
He put Harry down on the bed and sat beside him.   
  
"Hagrid?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you know anyone with the initials GEC?"  
  
Hagrid thought a moment.  
  
"Nah," he said.  
  
He handed Harry the plate of food.   
  
"Have you eaten yet?"  
  
Hagrid affirmed the question with a grunt.  
  
This time, the plate was stacked with wannkuchen, with bacon baked into it. It  
  
was delicious.   
  
"Lunchlady made it fer us. Doris,is 'er name. Oh,an' here's yer clothes,"   
  
Hagrid said,handing him a pair of denim shorts and a plain gray t-shirt.  
  
"Thanks," Harry said.  
  
"Watch out fer the woman wi' the wart on 'er nose."  
  
Harry looked up,mid-bite.  
  
"What she'll do teh yeh, nobody knows."  
  
"Wow," Harry said. "Did you-"  
  
"Nah,a guy named E.E. Cummings. Sprout's fav'rite poet."  
  
"Cool," Harry said.   
  
"Yeh want some tea?"  
  
"You don't have to."  
  
"'Arry," he said, "Makin' yeh tea's just one o' the many pleasures of knowin' yeh.  
  
Yeh want me ta make yeh tea...I'm gonna make yeh some tea."  
  
"Could you sit here a bit longer?"  
  
"Oh...yeah. O'course."  
  
Harry ate in silence a while; Hagrid sat there,occasionally looking down at Harry  
  
with a smile that held both affection and pride.  
  
"Do you ever dream about your dad?" Harry asked.  
  
"Jus' once, after e'd been dead fer years. We didn't really talk. 'E helped me  
  
tame a wild horse. One o' them regular ones? A bronco?"  
  
"Right."  
  
He took the last bite of food.   
  
"I'll be right back," he said,sliding off of the bed.  
  
Hagrid put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Yeh want me to come with yeh,keep away the...what's the word?"  
  
"Paparazzi. At least that's what my uncle calls them."  
  
"Eh, your uncle can go stick his head in an oven."  
  
"I'll be okay," Harry said.  
  
Hagrid nodded. "I'll make yeh that tea,then."  
  
---  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"Yes, Harry?" Professor Sprout asked.  
  
"Do you know anyone with the initials GEC?"  
  
"Can't say that I do," she said. "Minerva-"  
  
"Yes,Addie?"  
  
"Ever known anyone with the initials GEC?"  
  
"Does it have to be a person?"  
  
"I guess not," Harry said.  
  
"Geospace Electrodynamic Connections,"  
  
said Professor Dumbledore. "Of course,it  
  
could well be the Genetics Education Center.  
  
Not that they have anything to do with you, Harry."  
  
"The answer's probably right in front of my face," Harry said. He   
  
looked up at Professor Dumbledore. "Professor,maybe I should go back  
  
to Hogwarts. Maybe the answer is there."  
  
Dumbledore almost said no.   
  
I just wanted to spend some time with you, Harry, don't go.  
  
He didn't say it.  
  
Instead,he said "Your help has been invaluable,Harry. If you must-"  
  
"Oi,mate."  
  
Ron Weasley had burst from the back doors of the school, followed closely  
  
by Hermione.  
  
"Ron," Harry said.   
  
Perfect timing,Mr. Weasley,Dumbledore thought.  
  
"No class today," Hermione said.   
  
"I figured no one would mind if we visited."  
  
"Not at all, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I'm going to get dressed. I'll be out in a minute."  
  
Ron nodded.  
  
"If you see Neville inside the school-"  
  
Harry turned to Hermione. "Neville's here?"  
  
"Direct him outside."  
  
"Sure," he said.  
  
---  
  
Harry stepped inside the school.  
  
"Harry," Neville called.  
  
He looked like he'd run down the hallway.  
  
"Hey,Neville."  
  
"Oh,blimey..." he looked down the hall.   
  
An ear-splitting screech came from the way Neville had come.  
  
"What was that?" Harry asked.  
  
"These guys...their heads-"  
  
Someone skidded to a halt at the end of the hallway.  
  
The glare from the windows caught the figure,and distorted its focus,made it   
  
a fuzzy shadow.  
  
As it came down the hallway, Harry recognized the shadow's clothing...jeans,  
  
a black t-shirt decorated with a skull, and a purple cap. The thing was, the  
  
kid still had the head of a hamster.   
  
"Go tell McGonagall about this," Harry said.  
  
"Okay," Neville said, making his escape.  
  
The hamster-headed juvenile delinquent goggled at Harry.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, not sure how to feel.  
  
Professor McGonagall walked into the building.  
  
"Well,well,well..." she said. "Misbehaved, have we, Mr. Jones?"  
  
Hamster Head screeched.  
  
"Don't take that tone of voice with me, young man."  
  
She pointed her wand at him,said something Harry didn't quite understand,  
  
and the hamster became human.   
  
"Hey, lady," Jimbo said. "I-" he paused. His eyes went wide. He ran down  
  
the hall, screaming, his tail trailing the floor after him. 


	36. Chillinger, Poppy, Irma, Severus

I created Chillinger,but Madame Pomfrey doesn't belong to me.  
  
35.  
  
CHILLINGER, POPPY, IRMA AND SNAPE   
  
  
  
Ishmael Chillinger supposed it was a good thing that he did not see an arrow  
  
sticking out of his chest when he opened his eyes. Instead, the beauteous   
  
Poppy Pomfrey was there. Sometimes he found himself thinking about her in   
  
quiet moments, wondering what she was doing. Wondering if she had ever inhaled the   
  
steam from a-  
  
"You're lucky to be alive,you know," she said.  
  
"I know," Ishmael said, grinning, even though it hurt. "That which does not   
  
destroy me makes me stronger." He sat up. "I feel extraordinary," he said,  
  
swinging his legs off of the bed.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?"  
  
"I have papers to grade."  
  
"Oh,no," Madame Pomfrey said,"Just lie down and relax."  
  
"I've been trying to relax. I can't relax," said one of the other Chillingers.  
  
"I suppose I feel relaxed, but I dunno..."  
  
"How did you get the arrow out?"  
  
"Well, Willy carried you in here. He kept these two busy while I dissolved the   
  
shaft of the arrow with some Flesh-Resistant Acid. Then,I was able to assess the  
  
situation. The arrow missed your heart by several inches. However, I was able to get   
  
it out with no trouble at all."  
  
"You know, there should be more women named Poppy."  
  
She arched her eyebrow.  
  
"So far, the only one I'm aware of, besides you...an American Muggle writer named  
  
Poppy Z. Brite..."  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment; when he opened them again, she was standing  
  
over him. She held a spoonful of green liquid. He wanted her to climb on top of him   
  
and-  
  
"Here," she said. "This'll help you sleep."  
  
He closed his lips over the spoon and swallowed the liquid.  
  
"What were you doing in the Forbidden Forest, anyway?"  
  
He smiled, already feeling sleepy.  
  
"I like to live dangerously," he said.  
  
He closed his eyes; in a moment, he began to snore.  
  
---  
  
"Irma? Irma, are you here?"  
  
"Yes,what is it?"  
  
Irma Pince looked annoyed; being a librarian looked like an easy   
  
job, but it wasn't; it could be pretty nerve-wracking sometimes.  
  
Irma didn't look happy to see her; as far as Poppy knew, she had  
  
never done any damage to any of the library's books.  
  
"I was wondering if you could help me...I have been racking my   
  
brain,trying to figure this out..."  
  
"Well,what IS it?"  
  
"Who originally said 'That which does not destroy me makes me stronger'?"  
  
"Well,that's easy," Irma said. "I don't even have to look it up. That's   
  
Nietzche."  
  
"Friedrich Nietzche?"  
  
"No,my next-door-neighbor Billy Bob Nietzche. Of course, Friedrich Nietzche.  
  
I'm not an expert-Professor Snape is the Nietzche scholar. Ask him anything."  
  
"Irma,didn't Nietzche also say something about living dangerously?"  
  
But she was gone.  
  
---  
  
Five minutes later, she ran into Professor Snape.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey," he said, with a slight bow.  
  
Severus Snape could be so charming without even trying sometimes.  
  
Then again,what snake wasn't?  
  
"Do you have a moment?"  
  
"Only a moment," Snape said.   
  
"A moment is all I need. Madame Pince told me to  
  
ask you this...it's about Nietzche."  
  
"Nietzche?" Snape asked. "What would you like to know?"  
  
"Did he say something about living dangerously?"  
  
"Yes, he did. 'The secret of reaping the greatest fruitfulness and the  
  
greatest enjoyment from life is to live dangerously.'"  
  
"I see."  
  
"I never saw you as a Nietzchean," Snape said.  
  
"Oh,no," Madame Pomfrey laughed. "Not me. Professor Chillinger."  
  
"Chillinger," Snape said.   
  
Whoever fights monsters, he thought. 


	37. Angelina

37.  
  
ANGELINA  
  
  
  
Dumbledore was rather surprised when Angelina Johnson burst onto the playground  
  
from nowhere. She still had her Quidditch robes on.   
  
"Why,Miss Johnson," he said. "This is unexpected."  
  
"Headmaster-" She seemed to be out of breath. "I-Harry-"  
  
"Catch your breath, my dear."   
  
She took several deep breaths. She looked up at the sky, as if   
  
surprised that she was outside.  
  
"Weird," she said.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It's sunny at Hogwarts and overcast here."   
  
By that time, there were others around her.  
  
"You guys...Neville Longbottom," said Angelina. "He...he beat Slytherin. Single-  
  
handedly."  
  
"Do you mean that he played all the positions himself?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"No,he-he subbed for you,Harry. He was here for a little while,right?"  
  
"Yes,but then he remembered the match," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I remembered," said Professor McGonagall.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Of course."  
  
"-this other kid took Ron's place,but he didn't have to do anything...Neville...  
  
I've never seen flying like that, not even from you, Harry. He was all over the   
  
place, scoring goals, blocking shots, and he caught the Snitch-it was like he just   
  
willed it into his hand."  
  
"Good for him," Harry said. "It's about time he had his day."  
  
"I quite agree," Professor McGonagall said.  
  
"Harry,there's...something else I wanted to-"  
  
Dumbledore held up a hand. "If you'll excuse us, we'll be over there-" he pointed   
  
in some vague direction. "Looking for, er,..." he mumbled the last word, and   
  
led away Ron, Hermione and Professor McGonagall.  
  
"I don't know how to say this," Angelina said.   
  
"Just say it," Harry said.   
  
"We're friends, right?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, without even thinking. He had tried to distance himself from  
  
everyone this year and so far it just wasn't working. He just wanted everyone to  
  
be out of harm's way, but they pushed through every defense he had. They wanted to  
  
be near him because they cared, and nothing he could do would ever make them stop.  
  
  
  
"I've been thinking," Angelina said.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About...you know..."  
  
"Oh," Harry said,blushing. "Yeah."  
  
"You've been thinking, too?"  
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
"In that case, would you like to-"  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Harry sat on one of the swings.  
  
"You'd be in danger."  
  
"Oh, come on."  
  
"You think I'm kidding?"  
  
"You went out with Cho Chang last year."  
  
"I don't think what we did could be called going out."  
  
"Is it me?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you just not like me?"  
  
"I'd go out with you in a second. I just-"  
  
"All my life, I grew up hearing about The-Boy-Who-Lived. And then I wound up going  
  
to school with you and found out that not only were you as regular as I was, but  
  
that you were really nice and kicking arse alongside you in Quidditch has been   
  
great fun for me. So has DA. Even if we just go on a date as good friends,   
  
that's good enough for me."  
  
Harry thought about that.  
  
"You know, there's a cinema in this town."  
  
Angelina smiled. "I love movies."  
  
"What's your favorite?"  
  
"Can't pick just one. There's this one called THE SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE."  
  
Harry grinned. "Is there a slumber party in it?"   
  
"A slumber party as well as a massacre."  
  
"Sounds great," Harry said. "I don't know what they're showing here,though.  
  
Professor Dumbledore and I saw JAWS yesterday."  
  
"JAWS. I wish I'd been there."  
  
"Want to go Saturday?"  
  
"Yeah," she said. "Listen, I must get back to Hogwarts. There's a huge party going  
  
on in Neville's honor in the common room. Want to come?"  
  
"Give Neville my best," Harry said. "Oh...hey...by the way,do you know anyone  
  
or anything with the initials GEC? I thought I'd go back to Hogwarts and look,  
  
but the answer could be here."  
  
"No," she said,after a moment. "See you later."  
  
She ran away, leaving Harry floating on the swings. 


	38. Artie

38.  
  
ARTIE  
  
Here I sit and grin  
  
Money will roll right in  
  
-Crack Up,"Money Will Roll Right In"  
  
These characters don't belong to me. They are their own people.  
  
"God, would you look at these people? They look like they're living inside a   
  
Charles Dickens novel-"  
  
Voldemort was tired of sharing Artie Ziff's body. The only reason he didn't  
  
tell Artie this was because Artie would not shut up. He kept reminding Voldemort  
  
that he was a Very Important Person and that he was rich. Not just rich, but  
  
filthily so.   
  
They were passing the Springfield Museum Of Art when Voldemort saw an   
  
opportunity to shut Artie up.  
  
"Wait a moment," Voldemort said. "I want to go in there," he said.  
  
"We don't have time," Artie said. "I have plenty of art at home."  
  
"Mr. Ziff-"  
  
"Call me Artie, my Lord."  
  
"Artie...this isn't working."  
  
"It's working perfectly for me," Artie said. "Besides, I was hoping we could  
  
strike a deal."  
  
"I don't make deals."  
  
"It's simple. I help you-"  
  
Voldemort sighed. "And what do you want in return, Artie? Gold? Jewels? More  
  
money, I suppose? That's what rich fools like you crave. I already have one   
  
wealthy microcephalic in my employ. I don't need another one."  
  
"I don't want gold or jewels. Money, yeah, but what I really want-"  
  
"WHAT IS IT, ZIFF?"  
  
"Marge Simpson."  
  
"Marge Simpson? That woman with the...the hair-"  
  
"All I've ever wanted is Marge Simpson. I almost had her, a little while ago.  
  
But it just didn't happen-"  
  
"Fine," Voldemort said. "Deliver Ralph Wiggum to me,and you shall have   
  
Marge Simpson."  
  
He stepped out of Artie's body.  
  
"See you later," said Voldemort.  
  
Artie practically skipped away.  
  
Voldemort stood there, not sure what to do; he needed another host. Everyone  
  
in this town was so abnormal, he couldn't bear being in them for long. I know  
  
one of them was marked as a Death Eater, but where was he?  
  
"All right," he said. "The FIRST person I SEE-"  
  
-happened along not thirty seconds later, an unkempt woman wearing too much  
  
makeup, her ratty brown hair twisted and snarled, especially on top. She wore a   
  
pair of old blue jeans, a tattered green pullover and a shirt that exposed a copious   
  
amount of cleavage. On her feet: what he believed were called flip-flops.  
  
He jumped into her,and then-  
  
"Bran-DEEN-"  
  
A battered pickup truck pulled up next to them.  
  
"Ya promised me ya'd take me ta the trash art showin', Cletus."  
  
"We still got time fer that, hon. Right now, we gots to get   
  
Ma offa the roof agin..."  
  
What have I done? Voldemort thought,as Brandine leapt into the truck,  
  
just in time for Cletus to floor the accelerator. 


	39. Transit

39.  
  
TRANSIT   
  
  
  
  
  
-arry?"  
  
Harry snapped back to reality.  
  
He looked up at Dumbledore.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."  
  
  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Never mind."  
  
"No,what is it?"  
  
"My question concerned you and Miss Johnson."  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Your feet are barely touching the ground. Thus-"  
  
"Your answer is questioned," Harry said. "Wait..."  
  
"As long as you're happy," he said.  
  
"I think so," Harry said.  
  
"That's my greatest wish for you."  
  
"Happiness?"  
  
"That and more. So much more."  
  
He glanced over his shoulder.  
  
"Thinking of joining us, Minerva?"  
  
She frowned.  
  
"I've got chewing gum stuck to my boot."   
  
"Here," Ron said, "Lean on me."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley."  
  
Hermione pointed her wand at the grayish mess stuck to Professor McGonagall's  
  
boot. "Scourgify." The gum vanished.  
  
"We're going to a movie," Harry said.  
  
"At the Aztec."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well...I hope you have a wonderful time."  
  
"So do I."  
  
"Nervous?"  
  
"No," he said. "Yes."  
  
"You have nothing to be nervous about. Just be yourself."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Well,of course. You know, I believe there's some kind of gland in the human   
  
brain that burns out the minute you turn twenty, and it allows  
  
you to stop caring what other people think. Of course, I value   
  
the opinions of those closest to me...but you know what I mean."  
  
"I do know what you mean,yeah."  
  
"If you'll allow this temporary excursion into youthful vernacular,  
  
being a teenager can really suck."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped.  
  
"It was awful when I was sixteen and it's still that way. Your body's changing,  
  
you start questioning your place in the world, your whole identity...oh, well,  
  
at least you don't have acne. You have wonderful skin, Harry,has anyone ever told  
  
you that?"  
  
"No," Harry said.   
  
"You have your mother's eyes, but you also have her skin."  
  
"Are we there yet?" Ron called.  
  
"Very nearly, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore said.  
  
"I'm getting hungry," he said. "I hope they have food."  
  
"Ron, you just ate," Hermione said. "He popped into the   
  
party and pigged out."  
  
"Well, you did, too."  
  
Hermione gasped.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ron said. "I didn't mean to call you a pig."  
  
"S'alright, Ron." Hermione said. "I know you can't help it."  
  
Professor McGonagall bit her tongue.  
  
---  
  
"And now, back to BATTLE OF THE EVIL CHILD GENIUSES-"  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
Selma roused herself off the couch.  
  
She opened the door.  
  
A weird group stood on the other side.  
  
There was an elderly man with a long,silver beard and long flowing purple robes,  
  
fronting the group. He disarmed Patty with a polite smile. His arm rested around the   
  
shoulder of a bespectacled teenage kid with dark hair. Beside them, an elderly woman  
  
in green tartan robes stood with two other kids. The kids,to Selma, were nondescript  
  
because she saw so many others who looked just like them at the DMV.  
  
"Selma?" the elderly man asked. His voice reminded her of the voices she heard in  
  
her head, reading fairy tales.  
  
"That's me. Are you Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"Why, yes, I am."  
  
"Marge mentioned you. C'mon in."  
  
The group moved into the house.  
  
"Just make yourself at home," Selma said. "I know I have."  
  
She disappeared into the kitchen.   
  
She had lied to Marge and told her the state of the kitchen was her fault. Of  
  
course, she'd managed to glue the table and the chairs back together,but the   
  
room still smelled like electrified beer.  
  
She stuck a new cigarette in her mouth, then lit it.  
  
Selma opened the window a crack.  
  
When she turned back, Professor Dumbledore was sitting at the table.  
  
"Careful," she said. "The glue is still drying."  
  
"Don't worry," he said. "My bones are strong. My reflexes are excellent."  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"Old enough," Dumbledore said.  
  
"You don't smell like an old man."  
  
Dumbledore didn't know what to say.  
  
"Not that I have anything against the elderly," Selma said. "But, y'know,  
  
walk into a Bingo hall some days and the medication sucks all the air out of  
  
the room."  
  
"So do cigarettes," Dumbledore said, with his best Snapesian smirk.  
  
She blew a cloud of smoke at him.   
  
As it neared him, the cloud solidified.  
  
He collected it from the air,smoothed it out in his hands-  
  
-and tossed it back to her. She caught it.  
  
"Whoa," Selma said. "It's light as air."  
  
"Naturally," said Dumbledore.  
  
"So...you're the Gandalf of the bunch?"  
  
"A thing like that should not be said lightly," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Oh," Selma said. "Okay. Well..."  
  
"I wanted to speak to you about Severus Snape."  
  
She stubbed out the cigarette and sat across from him.  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"Just that...well,he's quite taken with you."  
  
"Well," she said.  
  
"He's not used to feeling what you made him feel earlier. His  
  
life, right now, is one of cold facts and enormous pressures.  
  
He may deny his own feelings, but I tell you I know the man.  
  
I ask only that you be patient with him."  
  
"All right," Selma said. "I'll be patient."  
  
He smiled,then stood up and moved into the living room.  
  
He sat down on the couch. For a moment, he watched the  
  
show airing on the television; it was one of those awful  
  
reality shows-WORLD'S FUNNIEST CAR WRECKS CAUGHT ON TAPE  
  
or something like that. It made him glad that there was no   
  
electricity at Hogwarts. Now that THE X FILES had gone,  
  
there was nothing this box could offer him.  
  
Back in the kitchen, the door opened.   
  
"Mr. Simpson?"  
  
Harry came in from the kitchen.  
  
"Mr. Simpson," he called. "Have you seen Mr. Simpson, Professor?"  
  
"I have not, Harry."  
  
"In that case, could you come out here, please?"  
  
Concerned, Dumbledore rose from the couch and followed Harry outside.  
  
Harry stopped in the middle of the backyard. He looked skyward. Professor  
  
Dumbledore joined him, rested one hand on the boy's shoulder,and-  
  
"There he is," Harry said.  
  
Fawkes sailed past their heads,towing Maggie Simpson,who squealed with delight.  
  
"Fawkes," Dumbledore called. "Come down here this instant."  
  
"Fawkes," Professor McGonagall called,appearing from the side of the house. She  
  
joined them. "Oh,well...that bird never listens to me."  
  
"He listens," Dumbledore said. "He just doesn't obey."  
  
She gave him that look that filled his dreams.  
  
Just then, Homer Simpson came out the back,followed by Hermione and Ron.  
  
"Oh,my God." he said. "Maggie," he called.  
  
"Please,don't worry," Dumbledore said. "He's perfectly safe."  
  
"She sure looks like she's having fun," Homer said. "Professor-"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"My dad ran out of his pills," Homer said. "It's almost time for his daily  
  
dosage,and I can't-"  
  
"Say no more," Dumbledore said. "We will deliver the medication."  
  
"I'll watch Fawkes," Minerva said.  
  
"Thanks, you guys."  
  
"Not at all," Dumbledore said. Then he touched Homer on the shoulder.  
  
"Homer..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Your mother..."  
  
Homer smiled; it was wistful and sad,but also loving.  
  
"She's alive," Homer said. "See,I thought she was dead...she wasn't."  
  
---  
  
Dumbledore felt very close to the three people walking with him. There was  
  
Harry, bringing up the rear, and Ron at his side, and he had linked arms with  
  
Hermione. He knew he was safe with them around,and of course the reverse was true.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"Yes, Ron?"  
  
"I've been wondering..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Dumbledore looked down, which wasn't far. Ron was getting so tall. "Yes," he said,   
  
his eyes twinkling.  
  
"I haven't even asked you the question yet."  
  
"The answer will be yes."  
  
Ron grinned.  
  
"Ask me anyway."  
  
"Did my parents name Percy after you?"  
  
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Hermione said. "I never even noticed."  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "They did."  
  
"Sorry he turned out to be such a git."  
  
"I believe there's still hope for Percy."  
  
"You really think so?" Harry asked.  
  
"I do."  
  
They crossed the street,and walked past the statue of the town's founder,Jebediah   
  
Springfield.  
  
"Looks like a tough customer," Ron said.  
  
"'A Noble Spirit Embiggens The Smallest Man,'" Hermione read.   
  
"Does this town look like yours?" Dumbledore asked her. She had grown into  
  
such a lovely young woman.  
  
"No, actually, it doesn't. It's a lot bigger."  
  
"That's right. You live in a village,don't you?"  
  
"Right. Twenty people, and we all know each other."   
  
"And your parents take care of their teeth?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "Their office is in another town. You get in for free,  
  
should you ever need dental work, Professor."  
  
"That's a comforting thought."  
  
As they crossed the street, Ron looked at the bottle of pills.  
  
"Methyl testosterone," Ron read. "What's that?"  
  
"Hormone pills," Hermione said.   
  
"Male hormones, specifically," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Here,it's just down the street," Harry said.  
  
"What are these pills supposed to do?" Ron asked.  
  
"Any number of things," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Is that it, over there?" Hermione asked, pointing  
  
to the Retirement Castle.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said.   
  
"Did you go in last time?"  
  
"No," Dumbledore said. "Homer's father ran out to us."  
  
"I visited my grandfather at his nursing home until he died," Hermione said. "It  
  
was such a creepy place. Like a prison."  
  
"Mmm." Dumbledore said. "The way the the elderly are treated saddens me at times."  
  
Hermione squeezed his arm.  
  
Ron ran onto the Retirement Castle's lawn.   
  
There were people sitting near the door,under a colorful awning. They waved  
  
at Ron. He grinned and waved back.  
  
"Look at this place," he said.   
  
Hermione and Professor Dumbledore joined him.  
  
Harry stepped onto the grass.  
  
The pain he felt in that moment made the Cruciatis Curse feel orgasmic.  
  
"Hey," one of the men under the awning said.  
  
Dumbledore turned in time to see Harry, standing there near the edge of the   
  
grass, on his feet and convulsing, as if he were being electrocuted by   
  
something under the ground-and now Hermione and Ron saw,too-Hermione gasped,  
  
and Ron said "Hang on, mate-" but they were both too late.  
  
A fountain of blood exploded out of Harry's scar,out of his head,staining the grass   
  
in front of him and drenching his clothes. His knees gave out and he fell.  
  
  
  
Dumbledore didn't remember how he got to Harry so quickly. One moment, he was   
  
standing a few yards away and then the next he was right there,kneeling  
  
beside Harry. He was aware of Ron and Hermione-"Is he breathing?" one of them  
  
asked, hysteria blurring the difference in pitch.  
  
He wasn't breathing.   
  
His heart wasn't beating, either.  
  
It would not, could not end this way, he thought.  
  
Dumbledore opened Harry's mouth and breathed for him,ignoring the blood  
  
on his face.  
  
"One. Two. Three."   
  
Miss Granger was pumping his chest with her hands. Good.  
  
He breathed into Harry again.   
  
This time, Harry coughed.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore exclaimed-  
  
-and now,orderlies and nurses were pouring out of the Retirement Castle. They  
  
moved Harry onto a stretcher and relayed him from the grass into the building,  
  
followed closely by Ron,Hermione and Dumbledore. 


	40. Chalmers

40.  
  
CHALMERS  
  
None of these people belong to me. The next few chapters might take a while,as   
  
I've just realized this story is longer than my novel as it stands right now.  
  
At one point,my novel was 500 pages long,and then I reread it one day and realized  
  
that it was just awful,so I started from scratch. Hope you guys had a fun blackout.  
  
I sure did...  
  
"Skiiin-URRRRR-"  
  
"Superintendant Chalmers," Skinner exclaimed, dropping the screwdriver.  
  
Chalmers swept it off the floor and slammed it down on the desk. He slammed  
  
the door.  
  
"Skinner, I've been rehearsing ways to phrase this question all down the   
  
hallway...I'm still not sure how to ask..."  
  
"Well,sir, maybe it's not an important question."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"Oh, I can't imagine what could be bothering you."  
  
"Skinner, what in the name of Phlefethom Dweezlemopter is going on here?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Who what?"  
  
"Who's Phlefethom-"  
  
"I made him UP," Chalmers said. "I'm so upset, I made...the man...up."  
  
"Devious."  
  
"My middle name."  
  
"Your middle name is Devious?"  
  
"Don't screw with me, Skinner." Chalmers took a breath. "I parked my car and there  
  
was this...GIGANTIC man-"  
  
"Oh, right, that's Hagrid."  
  
"Hagrid?"  
  
"Rubeus Hagrid. The groundskeeper?"  
  
"You know him?"  
  
"Well, you approved the exchange, sir, you should-"  
  
"What exchange?"  
  
"The exchange program. We sent Willy over to Hogwarts and-"  
  
"Did...you know...Skinner was in the war?"  
  
"Of course I know, I was there." he waved a hand in front of Chalmers's face.  
  
"You sent Willy WHERE?"  
  
"Ireland. Dick,don't you-"  
  
"DON'T call me DICK."  
  
The door opened.  
  
"Boys," said Edna. "You better calm down, both of you. People will talk."  
  
"Edna,make him talk sense," Chalmers said.  
  
"What am I, a miracle worker?"  
  
The door opened again.  
  
The three of them stared at the man in the doorway.   
  
"Ah," Snape said. "Good. This saves lots of running around. I'll be  
  
with you in a moment." He stepped out of the room and closed the door.  
  
There was an ominous CLICK.  
  
Edna tried the door.  
  
It was locked. 


	41. Silver

Like the previous 40-count 'em,FORTY!-disclaimers say,I don't own these characters.  
  
Two things: I don't know who owns "Mack The Knife." Second, I had the terrible   
  
realization that when it's nine in the morning in America, it's two in the afternoon  
  
in Britain. My excuse: No one knows where Springfield is,so the time difference is  
  
moot...  
  
41.  
  
SILVER  
  
  
  
He was barely aware of the window. There was a grassy field on the other  
  
side. Dumbledore wished it would rain, like yesterday. It would suit his mood  
  
quite well. If there had been time to get Harry to St. Mungo's,he would have   
  
carried him there himself. He could barely stand to think what they were doing to   
  
him. They would want to put needles in him and shine lights in his face and run   
  
terrifying tests on him.   
  
Somewhere in the ceiling, music was being pumped into the room.  
  
"-could it be our boy's done somethin' rash..."  
  
  
  
Dumbledore had been thinking about Harry for the last hour. At least it felt like  
  
an hour. He would have given anything to trade places, to spare him the horrors of   
  
modern medical care. Harry would endure their worst. That was what he had been  
  
doing his entire life; enduring. He had been used and badly abused and people  
  
treated him like some kind of cultural icon because of it. Was it any wonder  
  
he felt the need to close himself off, deny his feelings for those he cared  
  
about? Dumbledore knew doing this was hell for Harry. Dumbledore would offer as   
  
much comfort, give him as much encouragement, as he needed. He had been honest with  
  
Harry, made his feelings known, Voldemort and all his Shit Eaters be damned.   
  
But I took Harry's childhood away, he thought.   
  
He lowered his head.  
  
No. Voldemort did that. I want him to be safe.   
  
"I just want him to be happy."  
  
"Professor?"  
  
He looked over his shoulder.  
  
"Miss Granger." He tried to smile.  
  
"Sir...there was a vending machine in the hall...would you like some chocolate?"  
  
He didn't know what to say.  
  
Dumbledore sat down. The chair was hard plastic.  
  
She sat down beside him,and took his hand.  
  
"He'll be all right," she said.  
  
"Has Harry ever...done that before?"   
  
"I've never seen his scar vent blood, Professor."  
  
He nodded.   
  
"Hermione...do you remember,six years ago...when Harry woke up,after the business  
  
with the Sorceror's Stone?"  
  
"I remember."  
  
"Did you tell him how I worried?"  
  
"I told him."  
  
"I told him how worried YOU were."  
  
Hermione smiled.  
  
---  
  
Ron walked into the room.  
  
"Did you see anything?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Nothing," Ron said.   
  
He stood there, not sure what to do or say.  
  
"Ron-"  
  
Next thing they knew, the three of them were one.  
  
"I love Harry," Dumbledore told them. "I'm glad he has such wonderful friends."   
  
They stayed like that for awhile.  
  
Then, finally, a nurse appeared in the doorway.  
  
She walked into the room, a quiet-faced,thin woman with short,dark hair.  
  
"Is he all right?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"He's fine," the nurse said. For some reason,she did not smile. "There's nothing  
  
wrong with him. The The thing is, he doesn't have any medical insurance."  
  
"Money's no object," Dumbledore said. "Whatever the price-"  
  
"Can we see him?" Hermione asked.  
  
"He's resting right now," the nurse said. "He can leave whenever he wants, this  
  
isn't a hospital. There's just..."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Our staff adores that kid," she said. "So do our residents, and-"  
  
She looked angry now.  
  
"It can't be you," she said.  
  
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Follow me," she said.  
  
He let go of Hermione and Ron. They let go of him.  
  
The trio followed her into another room.  
  
This room was very dark.   
  
"I want you to know," she said,"That I considered calling Children's Services.  
  
We have them on speed-dial. But then I saw you holding these two,and actually  
  
talked to you...does he live with you?"  
  
"I wish he could," Dumbledore said. "His situation is...complex."  
  
"I'm going to show you some pictures," the nurse said. "I'm not sure the kids  
  
should see them-"  
  
"Nonsense," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Fine," the nurse said.   
  
The first picture appeared on the wall.  
  
It was Harry,unconscious. He had two black eyes. The swelling was horrendous.  
  
Dumbledore could barely speak. "What-"  
  
Another picture. Harry's back, flesh interrupted by fist-sized blobs of purple and   
  
blue. Then,the next one: his chest, badly bruised.  
  
"When we got him situated, we found bruises all over his body...the thing is,  
  
they were old bruises. That healed. It's as if every bruise he ever had came   
  
back temporarily, all at once."  
  
"Merlin," Dumbledore said,conscious of the tears falling down his cheeks.  
  
"And don't tell me he falls down a lot. I've heard that one. Unless he's   
  
falling into someone's fists. And the bruises aren't all we saw."  
  
Next picture: the back of Harry's neck. There was a large,ugly mark near  
  
his hairline.  
  
"What's that?" Ron asked.  
  
"That's a cigar burn."  
  
"No," Hermione said.  
  
"Oh,I'm afraid so," said the nurse. "We took pictures, and then everything  
  
disappeared, like it was never there. Look, do you know who did these things  
  
to him?"  
  
"I have a strong suspicion," Dumbledore said, thinking of all the things he   
  
wanted to do to Dudley Dursley.  
  
"You're Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"I am."  
  
"He asked for you," she said. "He woke up for a moment, and we asked him if  
  
he was in any pain and he said yes...then he asked for you...you love him,  
  
don't you?"  
  
"I do," Dumbledore said.  
  
"We do,too." Hermione said.  
  
"I wouldn't go that far," Ron said.  
  
Hermione punched his shoulder.  
  
---  
  
There were people outside the room; residents of the Retirement Castle. They  
  
felt for Harry; maybe they had grandchildren of their own.  
  
"Pardon me," Dumbledore said.  
  
"He's a precious child," a blue-haired lady in a housedress told him.  
  
"Quiet," said a smallish man with a beard not unlike Dumbledore's.   
  
"JASper-"  
  
"Not you, the kid."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
Dumbledore saw a familiar face.  
  
"Abraham," he said. "Good to see you."  
  
Abraham Simpson smiled. "We're just waiting for the room to clear."  
  
"If you'll excuse me."  
  
He walked into the room.  
  
The residents lingered a bit, but then scattered.  
  
They had given Harry a private room.   
  
(Those people were just waiting for the room to clear out-)  
  
Harry lay curled up in the bed. He was watching television.  
  
Onscreen, a woman with long blonde hair ran along a beach in slow motion.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry turned his head. "Hi," he said,as if he'd just woken up.  
  
Dumbledore gestured to the television. "What's this?"   
  
"It's called BAYWATCH," Harry said.  
  
Dumbledore grinned. "What's it about?"  
  
Harry managed a smile.  
  
Dumbledore sat next to him.  
  
"Is anything wrong with me?"  
  
"No, Harry...we can go when you're ready."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Do you remember anything?"  
  
"I remember the pain," Harry said.  
  
He covered his eyes with one hand.  
  
Dumbledore lifted him up and hugged him. It would not make everything better,   
  
suddenly, but it was was the best he could do.  
  
"I don't want to hurt anymore," Harry said.  
  
-his uncle wounds him with words, Dudley and his friends gave him these   
  
bruises and probably that burn, Voldemort hurt him in that graveyard-  
  
"Were I an empath, I would take it all upon myself."  
  
"I'm-"  
  
"Shhhh..."   
  
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were splashing waves,and the cries of   
  
shorebirds.  
  
"Are Hermione and Ron still here?"   
  
"Of course they are. They wouldn't leave you."  
  
"Right," Harry said. He yawned.  
  
"Sleepy?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Dumbledore thought for a moment.  
  
"Do you still have the book?"  
  
"It's on the table."  
  
There was a table next to bed. He picked up the book.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat and began to read.  
  
"'Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral  
  
arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun..."  
  
Harry was asleep before the first chapter was over.  
  
Dumbledore laid him down on the bed and pulled the sheet over him.  
  
He wondered if anyone had ever done that for Harry,other than his parents.  
  
In the hallway, Hermione and Ron were talking to a tall,loose-limbed man  
  
in brown corduroy pants and a shirt that read WORLD'S BEST GRANDPA (WORLD'S  
  
WORST KID.)   
  
"Is he all right?" Ron asked.  
  
"He's fine," Dumbledore said. "He's sleeping right now."  
  
"This is Mr. Tallmadge," Hermione said.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"Cornelius Tallmadge."  
  
They shook hands.  
  
"Mr. Tallmadge,could you keep my charges company for a little while?"  
  
"Be glad to."  
  
"What is it,Professor?"  
  
"I need to run a few quick,er...errands."  
  
"All right," Hermione said.  
  
"Before I do, could I borrow you for a moment, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione smiled, and they walked down the hall.  
  
They passed the candy machine; Dumbledore glanced at it. Then they walked by a noisy   
  
room. Hermione glanced and saw a man hooked up to a machine;the bag within rose and   
  
fell; it was breathing for him.   
  
"If I put my grandmother in a place like this, she'd come back and haunt me."  
  
"This place is nicer than some I've seen," Dumbledore said.  
  
Dumbledore held the back door open; she stepped through, onto the grass.  
  
"Let's distance ourselves a bit," Dumbledore said.  
  
They walked through the soft grass until the Retirement Castle was a respectable  
  
distance away. Hermione sat down in the grass. Dumbledore sat next to her.  
  
"Now, then," Dumbledore said. "Hermione, I will be back in a moment."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I'm going to pay a visit to Harry's cousin."  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "That horrid PRAT. I'd like to beat him until his-"  
  
Nothing seemed harsh enough, so she trailed off.  
  
"I think the time has come for a bit of retribution," Dumbledore said.   
  
"I QUITE agree," Hermione said.   
  
"Not that that's the best way to handle every problem-"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"-but I daresay the little bastard has earned it."  
  
Hermione laughed,and then put her hand over her mouth.  
  
"Please excuse the colorful metaphor," he said.  
  
"Don't apologize," Hermione said.  
  
"I will need your help, actually, but that will come later. Right now,  
  
keep Harry company, and look out for anything that seems strange."  
  
"Strange?"  
  
"You and I both know there's something evil in there," he said, with a look at  
  
the Retirement Castle. "Harry felt it, too."  
  
"And his scar bled," Hermione whispered.  
  
Dumbledore sat with her a moment more; then he stood up.  
  
"Back in a moment," he said. As he walked away, he turned.  
  
"Incidentally...do you have any of those SPEW buttons left?"  
  
"You're aware of SPEW?"  
  
"Miss Granger, there's not much at Hogwarts I'm not aware of." Then he grimaced.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"I ended that sentence with a preposition. That's terribly improper English."   
  
His eyes twinkled; then, as he neared the door, he disappeared.  
  
---  
  
Dumbledore appeared outside the house,invisible. To be seen by any of the neighbors  
  
just wouldn't do. Of course, Professor Sprout lived nearby in the summer, as did  
  
a number of other wizards and witches. So far, they had managed to remain unseen,  
  
although Petunia undoubtedly had her suspicions.   
  
She never knew when he was in the house, though.  
  
A barn owl was perched on the lamp-post outside the house. It  
  
screeched hello at Dumbledore, who greeted him back.  
  
From inside the house: "Ruddy OWL..."  
  
The door flew open.   
  
Vernon Dursley stomped outside. He had a shotgun,which he leveled at the owl.  
  
Dumbledore cast his eyes toward the sky.  
  
He found his wand and pointed it at Vernon's crotch.  
  
Vernon dropped the firearm. "Oh...AUUUUGH..."  
  
He sank down onto the front walk, squirming and moaning.  
  
Petunia appeared in the doorway.  
  
"Vernon?"  
  
He groaned. "My GROIN..."  
  
"Vernon, don't be embarrassing. It's just a cramp."  
  
"Petunia-"  
  
He slipped inside the house.  
  
Of course, there was still no sign that Harry lived there. It was as if he didn't   
  
exist.   
  
There was no sign of Dudley, either. He wasn't in the living room.   
  
He would have to check the kitchen.  
  
To get to the kitchen, he would have to walk past the downstairs cupboard.  
  
He did,braving the crushing aura of sadness hanging in the air.  
  
(-there's no such thing as magic-)  
  
He looked back the way he'd come, his outrage only outweighed by sadness.  
  
Vernon's nose started to bleed.  
  
Dumbledore entered the kitchen.  
  
Dudley was not there.  
  
Dumbledore looked out the kitchen window. No sign of him outside.  
  
He wondered what Jack and The Rippers sounded like.  
  
("He's gotten...scary.")  
  
Dumbledore walked back into the living room. He headed upstairs.  
  
He knew where Harry's room was.   
  
They still kept it locked, even when he wasn't there.  
  
Mere words could not describe the way he felt.   
  
He had tried to find some sign of basic human decency in Vernon Dursley. There  
  
was none to be found. Much like Dolores Umbridge.  
  
(Dolores Umbridge? Never heard of her, Detective.)  
  
He came to Dudley's door. It was closed,but judging from the noises coming  
  
from the other side, he was in there. He was trying to be quiet,so his parents   
  
wouldn't walk in on him, but Dumbledore had quite a good idea what he was doing.  
  
He knocked on the door.  
  
There was a loud crash.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
A moment passed.  
  
The door flew open.   
  
"Mummy?" Dudley called. "Daddy?"  
  
He bounced down the stairs.  
  
Dumbledore slipped into Dudley's room.  
  
The walls had been painted black.  
  
It was a mess. He could barely see the floor. There were clothes  
  
strewn everywhere, as were video games and loose change and compact discs and comic  
  
books-actually, he had once heard Dean Thomas refer to them as "graphic novels"   
  
and thought of them that way. There was a book on his dresser. It was   
  
called HUNTING HUMANS and it was an encyclopedia of serial killers.  
  
He picked up one of the CDs: Graveland's IN THE GLARE OF THE BURNING CHURCHES.   
  
Dumbledore found a piece of paper and wrote the letter, resting the paper on  
  
the dresser. He wrote the letter in thirty seconds and magicked up an envelope.  
  
He wrote DUDLEY DURSLEY on the front and tossed it onto Dudley's bed.  
  
It landed next to a rather rumpled square of paper.   
  
Against his better judgement, Dumbledore picked up the paper and flipped it over.  
  
He sucked in a breath.  
  
It was not a picture of a woman-or even a man-but of a dead, rotting dog; it looked   
  
like a golden retriever, but it was hard to tell. Most of its head had been eaten;  
  
there were maggots in its eyesockets and nostrils and mouth.   
  
He let go of it as if it were on fire. 


	42. ER

Like I've been saying,none of these characters belong to me...well,most of them   
  
don't...sorry this chapter took so long...classes have begun again...I can't  
  
believe I'm almost a college graduate...in addition to this,I've been working on  
  
my novel and started THREE new short stories. One of them-"Graveyard Smash"-is going  
  
to be ehhhxcellent. I just finished two others-the horribly titled "Carnival Of  
  
The Stuffed Animals" and "Safe Driving." On a lighter note,SEX CRIMES is at the printers and should be out on Halloween. On with Chapter 42,the number of the Ultimate Answer.   
  
42.  
  
E.R.   
  
Dumbledore found Harry in the dining room,along with Ron and Hermione and a number   
  
of residents. It did his heart wonders to see Harry like that.  
  
"Care for some liquefied Tater Tots?" Mr. Tallmadge asked.  
  
Dumbledore took the bag. "How do they taste?"  
  
"Like meat. Everything tastes that way lately."  
  
"So the mashed vegetables taste like meat?" Hermione asked.  
  
"They taste more like meat than the meat does. Even the coffee...it tastes   
  
like liquid steak."  
  
"But how long have these three been grilling you?"   
  
"Eh,I don't mind," he said.  
  
"I have one of my own. Who's the man hooked up to the respirator?"  
  
"His name's Lucky. Been here forever. He's a mess...had colon cancer, an ileostomy,   
  
multiple strokes...gone through a bunch of colostomy bags,too."  
  
"So Lucky is just an insensitive nickname," Harry said.  
  
"His real name is Kyle Quimby," someone else said. He had not aged well; he  
  
was a decrepit,wrinkly-headed old man with a number of missing teeth.   
  
"Isn't the mayor's name Quimby?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Oh,yes. S'Joe Quimby's daddy," Jasper said.  
  
"Mmmm," Dumbledore said. He leaned close to Harry. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Okay," he said.  
  
"Gave us quite a scare,kid," Mr. Tallmadge said.  
  
----  
  
Snape was about to re-enter the Principal's office when he heard the music.  
  
He paused outside the music room.  
  
A man was playing Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata." The room was full of   
  
musical instruments; the piano was a Steinway.  
  
When the man finished, Snape walked in.  
  
"You play well," Snape said.  
  
He swiveled around on the bench, then grinned. "Well, the piano needs tuning,  
  
but thanks. Dewey Largo." He offered his hand.  
  
Snape just looked at it. "Severus Snape," he said.  
  
"You a music lover, Snape?"  
  
"Sometimes," Snape said. "Mr. Largo-"  
  
"Call me Dewey. I get James Bond delusions every time someone somebody calls  
  
me Mr. Largo."  
  
Snape had heard of James Bond,but he had never bothered to read the books or   
  
see the films. He let the comment pass. "Listen,I'm trying to find a specific  
  
piece of music..."  
  
"You've come to the right place. What is it?"  
  
"A television show," Snape said. "You've heard of MACGYVER?"  
  
----  
  
Willy looked down at the cat.   
  
It stared right back at him.  
  
"I think I'll call yah Hairball," he said.  
  
"Mrs. Norris,to you."  
  
Willy looked up.   
  
Euuugh, he thought. Usually,he had to be drunk for someone to be so ugly.  
  
"Knew I'd run into you sooner or later," Filch said. He frowned.  
  
"And what were ye plannin'?"  
  
"Eh," Filch said. He held up a bottle of whiskey.  
  
----  
  
"How many people live here?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I'd say thirty or forty people," Tallmadge said.   
  
"At times,it...fluctuates," said a blue-haired woman.  
  
"Does anyone have...powers?" Harry asked.  
  
"Powers?" Jasper asked. "Y'mean,like levitatin' skirts with your mind?"  
  
"I did that once," Abe said. "It was a guy,though. He slapped me."  
  
------  
  
"-aaaa da daaahhh,da dat daaah,here comes the good paaaart-"  
  
Largo's hands flew over the keyboard.  
  
-----  
  
The door opened.  
  
"Who are you?" Chalmers asked.  
  
-----  
  
"Of course," Cornelius said,"There's this one-"  
  
He stopped talking, as if he were afraid to continue.  
  
"Go on," Dumbledore said.  
  
Cornelius Tallmadge swayed on his feet.  
  
He collapsed against a table.  
  
Several people gasped; a number of others started towards him.  
  
He waved them off. "I'm all right," he said. "Could someone get me a   
  
nitro pill?"  
  
An orderly handed him a nitroglycerin pill. He swallowed it.  
  
"I know pretty much everybody here," Tallmadge said. "We're   
  
like a little family...some of us are quieter than others,but  
  
they're visible,you know? Hazel, over there-"   
  
He pointed to a woman with gray hair done up in a bun; she wore   
  
steely eyeglasses. "Hazel, she's catatonic. Kyle Quimby can't even  
  
breathe on his own. And then...there's the room at the end of the   
  
East Wing."  
  
"What about that room?"  
  
"There's somebody in there," Mr. Tallmadge said. "Human...I s'pose."   
  
----  
  
"Professor McGonagall," Edna said.  
  
"You know this woman,Edna?"  
  
"She certainly does," McGonagall said.   
  
A beautiful red bird had perched on her shoulder. In her arms,she carried a   
  
happy-looking Maggie Simpson.  
  
----  
  
Harry looked down at the manifest.  
  
ROOM 34:   
  
E.R.  
  
He handed the clipboard to Professor Dumbledore.  
  
---  
  
Willy slammed the shot glass onto the table. They had nearly gone through the   
  
bottle. Neither he nor Filch were even close to being drunk.  
  
---  
  
Snape opened the door and walked in.  
  
"Ah. Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Severus," McGonagall said.  
  
"Minerva," said Snape.  
  
---  
  
Dumbledore led them down the hallway.   
  
As they passed room 25, Harry cried out.  
  
Dumbledore was instantly at his side.  
  
"Can you go on?"   
  
"I have to," Harry said. "I have to see what's in there."  
  
The boy's hands were shaking.  
  
The three of them stood around him; the ancient wizard behind him, his friends  
  
on either side.   
  
They continued down the hall.  
  
----  
  
"Here," Snape said,offering the spoonful of Veritaserum to Skinner.  
  
"What is that stuff?" Chalmers asked.  
  
"Veritaserum," Snape said.  
  
"Never heard of it. Seymour, don't take it."  
  
"I assure you,it's perfectly safe," said Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Don't do it, Skinner."  
  
"Oh, come on, Dick-"  
  
"DON'T call me DICK."  
  
"Sorry. I forg-"  
  
Snape shoved the spoon into Skinner's mouth. He swallowed the liquid.  
  
McGonagall made a tctching sound.  
  
"Ugh," he spluttered. "That was way beyond-"  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
Skinner's eyes closed halfway. In a dull,droning voice,he said. "Armand  
  
Tamzarian."  
  
Snape threw a questioning look at Edna Krabappel.  
  
"That's his real name," she said. "Long story...and we're legally gagged."  
  
----  
  
They stopped outside 34.  
  
"You okay,mate?" Ron asked.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry said, teeth gritted.  
  
"Does your scar hurt?" Hermione asked.  
  
"It always hurts," Harry said.  
  
"Does it?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said.  
  
"Well, let's sort this out, then," Ron said.  
  
He started towards the door.   
  
Dumbledore pulled him back.  
  
---  
  
"Armand...how did the idea of an exchange come about?"  
  
"From Superintendant Chalmers," Skinner said.  
  
Snape looked at Chalmers. He poured some more Veritaserum.  
  
"I'm not taking any of that," he said.   
  
Snape took one step forward.  
  
He stepped on Chalmers's foot.  
  
"Ow-"  
  
Snape shoved the spoon into his mouth.  
  
"Very tactful, Severus." McGonagall said.  
  
He waited a moment.  
  
"Now then. What's your name?"  
  
"Richard Chalmers."  
  
"How did you find Hogwarts?"  
  
It was as if there was something inside Chalmers.  
  
He tossed his head this way and that.  
  
He turned to Edna Krabappel. She accepted the spoon and swallowed the Veritaserum.  
  
"Tastes sweet," she said, and then her face went slack.  
  
"Edna, someone has done something to your mind. Tell me,are you aware of this?"  
  
"I can feel her in my head," Edna said. "She's inside them, too."  
  
---  
  
"What is it?" Ron asked.  
  
"Maybe nothing," Dumbledore said.   
  
He reached towards the door.  
  
----  
  
"Who is she?"  
  
"I don't know," Edna said.  
  
Fawkes began nibbling at Professor McGonagall's hair.  
  
"Fawkes,PLEASE."   
  
Fawkes sang into her ear  
  
"Mr. Chalmers?" asked Professor McGonagall,after a moment.  
  
"Yes," Chalmers said, slumped in his chair.  
  
"Is there's someone inside your mind?"  
  
"Yes," Chalmers said.  
  
"How did she get there?"  
  
Chalmers didn't answer.  
  
"What's the last thing you remember,before she entered your mind?"  
  
"Returning Agnes's wheelchair."  
  
"Who's Agnes?" Snape asked.  
  
"Armand Tamzarian's mother," Skinner said.   
  
---  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"I thought there might be protection," Dumbledore said.   
  
He put his ear to the door.  
  
"Sounds like a number of people," he said.  
  
---  
  
"Someone gave Mother a wheelchair," Skinner said. "She didn't need it. The   
  
Superintendant happened to be visiting, and he offered to take it to the   
  
Retirement Castle."  
  
"Mr. Chalmers," Snape asked,"What happened when you went to the Retirement Castle?"  
  
"I went in and told them I wanted to donate a wheelchair," Chalmers said. "They  
  
said thank you,and asked me to wait because they had some forms I had to fill out...  
  
so I waited...it was really quiet...and then I heard this...singing-"  
  
---  
  
"What is it,Professor?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Can't you hear it?"  
  
"Hear what?"  
  
"Someone is singing in there."  
  
----  
  
"-it was the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard...and I went down the hallway,  
  
past elderly residents sleeping, or watching television...there were a few   
  
sleeping in front of the television. I found the room. I went in...it was  
  
totally dark,except for the window. There were curtains. There's a word...sleek,  
  
sheer..."  
  
"Diaphanous," Minerva said.  
  
"Yes. Diaphanous,blowing around in the wind. Beyond that,the outside-"  
  
"Could you still hear the music?"  
  
"In my head," Chalmers said,  
  
----  
  
The door swung open.  
  
Light spilled into the dark room.  
  
Darkness spilled into the hallway.  
  
---  
  
"-and I went to the window. I had this urge to...I don't know...break it. Cut  
  
myself with a shard of glass. I can't explain it. And then I heard movement   
  
behind me in the dark. I turned and there was this woman in the bed against the  
  
wall and she-oh GOD-"  
  
"What did she do?" Snape asked.  
  
"I'm there again," Chalmers whispered-he shut his eyes. "I can still see her,she's   
  
getting out of the BED-"  
  
---  
  
Something moved in the darkness.  
  
Dumbledore gathered the children behind him.   
  
He pointed his wand into the room.  
  
---  
  
"What do you SEE?"   
  
Chalmers was sweating now-"She's saying things I don't understand and now she's on   
  
TOP of me and and and her eyes are GLOWING oh my GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD-"  
  
Chalmers let out a shriek of terror.  
  
----  
  
She emerged from the darkness.  
  
Dumbledore kept his composure,for the sake of the children.  
  
"I know who you are," the woman said.  
  
---  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
Chalmers's eyes had rolled back in his head.  
  
A voice not his own spoke.  
  
"My name is..."  
  
Edna opened her mouth.  
  
"Eleanor..."  
  
Skinner swayed.  
  
"Riddle..." he groaned.  
  
---  
  
Harry stared at the woman,who had just fainted onto the floor.  
  
"It's his mother,isn't it?"  
  
Dumbledore looked down at Harry. "She has-"  
  
"-his eyes," Harry said. "But...but she's DEAD."  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said,"You were told she was dead by Voldemort."  
  
"Exactly," Harry said.  
  
"Consider the source," said Dumbledore.  
  
"This is Voldemort's mother?" Hermione asked.  
  
"It certainly is."  
  
"What the bloody hell's she doing here?" Ron asked.   
  
-----  
  
Chalmers cackled.  
  
"So you're Severus Snape," he (he?) said. "The thoughts my Tom thinks about you-"  
  
"But you're dead," Snape said. Minerva had never seen him look so shocked.  
  
"No," Chalmers said.   
  
"I'm not," she said,out of Edna's mouth.   
  
"Ask Homer Simpson about his mother," Skinner said.  
  
"He knows," Chalmers said.  
  
"I know he knows..."  
  
"I hear every thought, every word uttered by everyone in this town...I  
  
know that little baby Maggie nearly killed a man..."  
  
Maggie narrowed her eyes,and sucked on her pacifier.  
  
---  
  
"This is why we're really here," Harry said, on the verge of shouting. "You  
  
could have TOLD-"  
  
"Harry, I didn't know," Dumbledore said. "Remember,they contacted us."  
  
Harry stared hard at him for a moment. His expression softened.  
  
He looked at his feet.  
  
"Sorry," he said.  
  
Dumbledore took him by the shoulders. "No apologies necessary, Harry. It seems we've   
  
walked into a carefully laid trap meant for Voldemort."  
  
"Voldemort?"  
  
"He is her only blood tie to our world. The reverse is also true. In luring  
  
him to Springfield, she has also ensnared us."  
  
----  
  
"It makes sense now," Snape said. "She got inside the Superintendent. He   
  
contacted Fudge and proposed the exchange...but why would Fudge-"  
  
"Why does Fudge do anything?" Minerva asked.  
  
Chalmers, Krabappel and Skinner laughed as one.  
  
"The story doesn't end there. Here,talk to Seymour. Or Armand. I can't decide   
  
which name I prefer."  
  
Skinner's eyes widened for a moment, and then settled down.  
  
"What's your name?" Snape asked.  
  
"I already told you. Armand Tamzarian."  
  
"Armand,did Superintendant Chalmers come back from the Retirement Castle?"  
  
"Yeah," Skinner said. "He did."  
  
"What happened when he did?"  
  
"He came back to tell Mother."  
  
Everyone except Snape held their breath.  
  
"Did he come in contact with your mother?"  
  
"No," Skinner said. "Just me."  
  
Mass exhalation ensued.  
  
"Mother went out to her support group-"  
  
"What support group is this?"  
  
"Parents of Failures," Skinner said. "I was the only one home. Superintendent  
  
Chalmers knocked on the door. I opened the door. He had this grin on his face...  
  
he never smiles when I'm around. It was strange. And then I asked him "Are you  
  
all right,Dick?" and then he told me his name wasn't Dick anymore and...and he-  
  
his eyes started...shimmering. You know,like when you look into the distance on  
  
a hot day-"  
  
"-and the heat rises up from the road," Snape said. "Go on."  
  
"...and after a second,I could feel what I saw in his eyes inside me."  
  
"What did it feel like?"  
  
"Heat," he said. "Wave after wave of heat,coursing through me."  
  
"How did she get inside Edna Krabappel?"  
  
"Later that night," Skinner said. "When we-"  
  
Edna snickered. "I got inside her right after he did."  
  
"But there's more," Chalmers said. "If you want to hear it."  
  
"Every word," Snape said.  
  
"Take it,Edna," Skinner said.  
  
Then Mrs. Krabappel sucked in a breath,before her face relaxed.  
  
"It was late," she said. "I woke up and the moon was high in the sky, and  
  
Seymour and I were in bed...he was sound asleep,holding me tight...I could   
  
hear a train whistle in the distance, the windows were open. It was warm  
  
that night...it was so warm, I got thirsty. So I untangled myself from   
  
Seymour and the sheets...went downstairs in the dark...moonlight shone   
  
through the kitchen window. I poured myself a glass of orange juice. Without  
  
pulp. I can't understand why anyone buys the stuff with pulp. If I want pulp,  
  
I'll eat an orange-"  
  
"Focus,Edna," Professor McGonagall said.  
  
"Right,yeah...I finished the glass,and put it down on the counter. It was then  
  
that I looked out the window...I saw somebody standing in the back yard. I don't  
  
know what they looked like...whoever it was was wearing a hooded cloak. As I   
  
watched, the figure disappeared and reappeared right next to me in the kitchen."  
  
He pointed something at me-a long,pointed stick-"  
  
Snape held up his wand. "Like this?"   
  
"Yeah,like that...he pointed it at me and said something I didn't understand-  
  
it was like, sombalombo or something like that..."  
  
"Somnambula?"  
  
"I guess," she said.  
  
Snape turned to Professor McGonagall.   
  
"A sleeping spell," she said.  
  
"Right," he said.   
  
He turned back to Krabappel.  
  
"What happened when you woke up?"  
  
"I woke up...in a dark place...I couldn't see any walls or floor...There was   
  
just black all around, except for a bright light above me...I looked to the  
  
left...Seymour was restrained in a chair beside me. The straps were around   
  
his neck and his hands...they were strong as iron. Superindentant Chalmers was in the   
  
same situation on my other side. I looked back at Seymour and called his name. He   
  
turned to look at me and started to say something and then the light got brighter,  
  
overwhelmingly bright. There were shadows in the light...and they unstrapped  
  
Seymour. They dragged him away yelling about not wanting to be anally probed.  
  
I sat there for a moment...it was quiet in there. But I knew we weren't alone.  
  
"Hello?" I called. "Anyone there?"  
  
"Quiet," said someone,somewhere in the darkness.  
  
"Why is this happening?" I asked.  
  
"Shhhhh."  
  
"My name's Edna," I said. "What's your name?"  
  
"There was a long silence. Silence can be an effective torture.   
  
Then,finally:  
  
"Timothy."  
  
"Timothy," I said. "Where am I?"  
  
"Don't worry," he said. "Everything will be-"  
  
A rectangular light appeared in the dark. A doorway. A figure appeared   
  
in the doorway. It was just a short,fat shadow.  
  
"DAWLISH-"  
  
I heard Timothy gasp. He ran towards the doorway and then disappeared.  
  
But there was somebody ELSE watching me.  
  
Before I could say anything, he came out of the darkness,blocking the light.  
  
He was just a kid.  
  
"Hi," I said,and I actually smiled. "Could you loosen these things?"  
  
"You won't be in them long."  
  
"Oh. Great. Well,kid,I guess we won't be shaking hands."  
  
"My name is Percy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Not 'kid.'"  
  
"Oh. Edna Krabappel."  
  
"Percy Weasley. You won't remember my name in a while,so-"  
  
Snape interrupted her.  
  
"Wait a moment. Are you sure he said his name was Percy Weasley?"  
  
"Yes," she said.  
  
"Percy Weasley," Professor McGonagall echoed.  
  
"Did you know...Seymour was in the war?" echoed thrice. Actually, Skinner said "I."  
  
Snape waved his hand in their faces.  
  
"'-there's no harm in me telling you,' he said. And then he came closer...you   
  
know him, I guess,so there's no point in me describing him. He put a cup to my  
  
lips,tilted it and said "Drink this." He didn't really give me a choice...after  
  
I drank the stuff,I started feeling sleepy..."  
  
"Sleeping draught," Snape told them.  
  
"Of course," McGonagall said.  
  
"-woke up,Seymour was back in the chair and he was arguing with this little  
  
man. "It didn't work," my husband was yelling. "I haven't forgotten a thing,  
  
least of all your name, and if I weren't strapped into this thing, I'd kick  
  
your-"  
  
"OBLIVIATE-"  
  
A beam of light shot out of his wand and hit Seymour.   
  
For a second,they just stared at each other. You could feel the air between  
  
them heating up.   
  
"Didn't work," Seymour said.  
  
"Bloody HELL," said the little man.  
  
"I still know your name and you'll never shut me up-"   
  
and Skinner began bouncing up and down in his chair, yelling-  
  
-"CORNELIUS FUDGE-"  
  
"Did you know-"  
  
-"FUDGE CORNELIUS FUDGE CORNELIUS FUDGE COR-"  
  
"SILENCE!" Snape bellowed.  
  
A deep silence came over the room.   
  
"Now," said Snape. "What happened next?"  
  
"He told Seymour to shut up and raised his arm,like he was going to hit him. As  
  
his hand swung down, Seymour's eyes lit up and this mass of energy shot out of   
  
his eyes into Fudge's. Percy came forward and the same thing happened to him, and  
  
Dawlish and a few other people I didn't know...and then,I don't know...I woke   
  
up at home, in bed,next to Seymour. I don't know what happened to Superintendant  
  
Chalmers...guess he woke up at home,too...that's all there is to tell,really.   
  
I guess he contacted Fudge,and since she's inside Fudge, he agreed to the   
  
exchange as a way to hasten a reunion with her only child-"  
  
"Come to think of it...where IS Fudge?" Minerva asked.  
  
  
  
"The Ministry Of Magic," Snape said. "Pardon me,Minerva,but I think it's  
  
safe to say the shit's hit the fan..." He stood up and opened the door. "This  
  
situation cannot possibly get ANY worse-"  
  
Selma was leaning against the wall in the hallway.  
  
She smirked when she saw him.  
  
"I stand corrected," Snape said.   
  
Then, behind him-  
  
"Severus."  
  
He whirled, and his cape gave its most dramatic swirl yet.  
  
For someone so old, the Headmaster had a steady, confident stride. Potter and   
  
his blasted friends were with him, as well as a woman who looked familiar,and  
  
then he realized that she was the Dark Lord's mother.  
  
"Sir," he said. "I have unearthed some rather serious information. I-"  
  
The door to the Principal's Office burst open.  
  
Skinner looked frantic.   
  
"We've got to stop the exchange-"  
  
He stopped speaking when he saw the group.  
  
"Oh, great, you're here."  
  
"Indeed we are," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Someone's on the phone," Skinner said. Says his name's Tom?"  
  
"Voldemort," Potter said.  
  
"He's asking to speak to one of you."  
  
"Oh, I'll talk to him," Harry said.  
  
"Potter-" said Snape.  
  
Potter turned.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
For once, Snape couldn't think of anything to say.  
  
Harry went into the office.  
  
"Mrs. Krabappel," he said. "Hi."  
  
Mrs. Krabappel looked as if she had just woken from a terrible nightmare. The  
  
guy next to her was asleep.  
  
"I know you," she said. "Your name is Harry."  
  
"That's right," Harry said.  
  
"I knew it."  
  
He picked up the reciever.   
  
"Do you mind? It's for me."  
  
"Go ahead," she said.  
  
Harry put the reciever to his ear. He was aware of everyone   
  
filing into the office.   
  
"Someone's there," said the voice on the other end.  
  
"Hello, Lord Thingy," said Harry.  
  
Dumbledore stifled a laugh.  
  
He could just hear the bastard gnashing his teeth.  
  
"Potter, put Dumbledore on."  
  
"Not just yet."  
  
"PUT...DUMBLEDORE...ON."  
  
Harry's scar throbbed. He swayed. The wall kept him up.  
  
"I'll take it, Harry," said Dumbledore.  
  
Gently, he took the reciever from Harry.  
  
"Tom? Are you there?"  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"Ah, hello, Tom. Figured out what's worse than death yet?"  
  
"How about the stench of rotting internal organs that pop out  
  
unexpectedly after your flesh rots right off the bone?"  
  
"Really, Tom, you ought to write children's books."  
  
There was a long silence on the other end.  
  
"I hate you," broke the silence. "I hate this town even more than I hate you,  
  
and I hate you more than I've ever hated anything."  
  
"Except, as you said, this town."  
  
"Well,everyone's INSANE-"  
  
"There's no need to shout."  
  
"I'd leave, but that boy is too valuable."  
  
"I know the real reason you haven't left, Tom."  
  
"Oh, do you really?"  
  
"I know you, Tom. You don't like to think that I do, but it's true. I know   
  
anger is the most intense emotion you can feel, because you have no idea how  
  
to love."  
  
"Dumbledore, spare me-"  
  
"-I know you came to this town searching for something. You couldn't quite figure  
  
out what that was, not even Ralph. You were lucky to find Ralph Wiggum and when you   
  
did you complicated things with all these meaningless diversions to prolong your   
  
business here,because you could feel something beckoning to you on some subconscious   
  
level. Don't you see,Tom? You're consumed with this town-you found Ralph Wiggum, but  
  
you could have taken him at any time. I know you're searching for something-"  
  
Another long silence.  
  
"You know what it is?"  
  
"I know," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Wh-what is it?"  
  
"Your mother, Tom."  
  
"My mother is dead, Dumbledore."  
  
"No," Dumbledore said. "Your mother is alive She has been calling you back to her."   
  
"My MOTHER is DEAD,Dumbledore,STOP TRYING TO-"  
  
"Tom?" asked a voice from the past."Tom, is that you?"  
  
I was a baby, he thought. I shouldn't remember her voice.  
  
"...mother?"  
  
"Yes, Tom...it's me."  
  
The body Voldemort was using had a massive heart attack.  
  
"Oh,Tom...I've seen everything...in my head...Tom, I know an apology  
  
would just make you angry,but...look, your father's gone. I just want us  
  
to be a family ag-"  
  
"Mother?"  
  
"Me again," Dumbledore said.  
  
"That can't be my mother."  
  
"Oh, it is. And you know,Tom...I should hate to think what would happen to her,  
  
should she be,er...removed...from from the safety of her environment."  
  
"You're...KIDNAPPING my MOTHER?"  
  
Voldemort heard the phone change hands.  
  
"How does it feel?"  
  
"Potter...my God,Potter. Did I abduct YOUR mother?"  
  
"I'm not even going to answer that. Besides, you shouldn't think of this as  
  
a kidnapping...we're just going to...show her a good time."  
  
"You little bastard."  
  
Potter just laughed.   
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"You don't have any right to ask me what I want, you sick,demented PRICK."  
  
Harry slammed the phone down.  
  
"Excuse me," he told Dumbledore.  
  
Dumbledore tapped the side of his own head.  
  
"Deaf," he said. 


	43. Boourns!

43.  
  
BOO-URNS!  
  
None of these characters are mine. Incidentally,I've made another sale. My poems  
  
"Carrion 2.0" (there's another version) and "Black" are in the latest issue  
  
of Quietus Magazine,which came out on Halloween. Apparently,UNSPEAKABLE LIMERICKS is   
  
out,as well,and so is SEX CRIMES. No one under 18 will be allowed anywhere NEAR  
  
that one,believe me..."I Will Always Love You" belongs to Dolly parton,I guess. "I   
  
Said I Loved You (But I Lied)" belongs to...MICHAEL BOLTON."The Kindness Of   
  
Strangers" belongs to Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds.   
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"Just a second," Marge said.  
  
She went to the door and opened it. "Mrs. Weasley,hello."  
  
"Mrs. Simpson," she said.   
  
Snowball II rubbed her head against Molly's foot,purring.  
  
"Call me Marge."  
  
"In that case,call me Molly."  
  
"Would you like to come in?"  
  
"Well, not right now. I was hoping you could help me."  
  
Marge stepped outside.  
  
"I'll certainly try, Molly. What do you need?"  
  
"I've run out of water for tea,and I don't know where to go to get more."  
  
"Oh," Marge said,understanding. "I'll drive you over to Try-N-Save."  
  
"I don't have the proper money."  
  
"Just get in the car," Marge said.  
  
Molly grinned.   
  
Now, of course, had she known that the security of the Ministry Of Magic had   
  
been compromised, she wouldn't have given a damn about tea. But that's just it;  
  
she didn't know.  
  
She slid into the passenger seat. In moments, they were off.  
  
"I'm on the wrong side of the car," Molly laughed. So did Marge.  
  
They stopped for a red light.  
  
"That's the best part of brooms," Molly said. "No bloody lights. Of course,  
  
there's low-flying airplanes-"  
  
"You really ride brooms?"  
  
"Not much else to ride," Molly said. "We do use cars, when we must." She   
  
looked around. "Can I open the window?"  
  
"Sure," Marge said.  
  
Molly cranked her window down.  
  
"Would you like some music?"   
  
"Oh. A radio. If my husband were here, he'd be fiddling round with it. He's  
  
fascinated with your various gadgets. Brings them home sometimes. Then our kids  
  
get their hands on them."  
  
"How many kids do you have?"  
  
"Well,there's Ginny and Ron. Fred and George are twins. We have two grown boys,  
  
Bill and Charlie, and-"  
  
"One more makes seven."  
  
"Percy," Molly said, as if the boy were dead. "But I don't think he wants anything  
  
to do with us."  
  
"You have seven kids."  
  
"Harry makes eight. We consider him one of us."  
  
"I know someone with nine kids."  
  
"Busy people, I gather."  
  
"They took fertility drugs."  
  
"I've heard of those. Didn't need 'em. How many do you have?"  
  
"Three kids. Bart,Lisa, and Maggie."  
  
"-AND AAAAAIIII-EEEYAAAIII...WILL ALLLWAYSS LUHHHHVE YOUUUUUU-"  
  
"Y'know, I can't help wondering...wizards and witches have their own  
  
musical groups,don't they?"  
  
"Oh,yes. The Weird Sisters-very big with the kids. There's Celestina Warbeck,  
  
she's an operatic soprano.   
  
played The Queen Of The Night in your THE MAGIC FLUTE  
  
once. Other than that, she usually performs in operas written especially for her-  
  
THE TRANSFIGURATION OF HELENE,that's a great one-Italian. Everybody dies. Like  
  
that other opera whose name eludes me...the heroine stabs the villain with a   
  
butter knife and asks him 'are you choking on your own blood?' as he dies-"  
  
"I know that one," Marge said. "It's called TOSCA."  
  
"-aaHHH WILL ALLWAYYS,AAAAAAALWAAAAAAAYS LUHHHHHVE YOUUUUUUU-"  
  
"I hate this song," Marge said. She changed stations.  
  
"My husband's fascinated with your culture," Molly said. "He brings home   
  
the strangest music sometimes."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"Me? Oh...well, I don't begrudge his curiosity. Sometimes, I just find this  
  
world...weird. Confusing."  
  
"I live here, and I still find it that way."  
  
Molly laughed. "For a Muggle, you're all right, Marge."   
  
"Thanks. You're the first witch I've ever met."  
  
Molly lowered her voice a few octaves. "We walk among you."  
  
This time,Marge laughed.  
  
She stopped the car at a red light.  
  
The truck in the other lane stopped beside them.  
  
"Augh,what IS that stench?"   
  
Marge looked over. It was Cletus Delroy's truck, which was piled high with   
  
junk and other things that had probably been alive once.  
  
The weird thing was that neither Cletus or Brandine Delroy were driving.  
  
One of their kids sat on a trio of old Springfield phone directories, a long-  
  
faced,mopey kid with an unwashed mop of reddish-brown hair hiding his eyes-sat in the   
  
driver's seat, his hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white.  
  
Before Marge could say anything, the light turned green and he peeled out of there.  
  
"Did you see that?"  
  
"See what?" Molly asked.  
  
"There was a kid driving that truck. One of Cletus Delroy's kids."  
  
"Is he a friend of yours?"  
  
"Uh...well...he's kind of reclusive. He has twenty-six kids."  
  
"TWENTY-SIX?" Molly laughed. "How many wives does he have?"  
  
"Just one," Marge said. "His sister, Brandine."  
  
"But you said she was his-" She stopped in midsentence. "Oh," she said.  
  
"Yeah," Marge said.  
  
They stopped at a red light.  
  
There were kids standing on the corner, waiting.  
  
None of them had three arms or an extra head.  
  
"His sister and his wife," Molly said. "Arthur brought home this film once,  
  
with a Muggle actor named Jack Nicholson-"  
  
"My sister,my daughter,my sister,my daughter!" Marge exclaimed.  
  
"That's it exactly. What was it called?"  
  
"It was called...CHINATOWN."  
  
"Forget it,Jake,it's...Chinatown."  
  
It sounded funny with her accent.  
  
Static blasted out of the radio.  
  
"SAID I LUUUHHH-HUVED YEWWWWWW but I LIED-"  
  
"Michael Bolton?" Molly asked.  
  
"It sure is," Marge said.  
  
"Merlin," she said. "He IS real."  
  
Molly sat back, and closed her eyes.  
  
"Terrifying," she said.  
  
Marge twisted the dial.  
  
"My husband was in a musical group once," she said. "The B Sharps."  
  
"No one I know can hold a tune," Molly said.   
  
A sad, mournful ballad lilted through the car.  
  
"-...they found Mary Bellows...cuffed to the bed...a rag in 'er mouth...and   
  
a bullet in 'er head..."  
  
"Oh,this is cheery," Molly said.   
  
"Anyway, we're here."   
  
Marge turned the radio off.   
  
Marge pulled into the Try-N-Save parking lot.   
  
Molly had never seen so many cars in her life.   
  
The sun made an appearance from behind a cloud,reflecting off of the mass of chrome.  
  
Marge slowed the car to a crawl, searching for a parking space.  
  
Another little kid ran in front of the car, disappearing in the sun glare.  
  
"All these kids," Marge said,with a nervous laugh.  
  
She found a parking space.   
  
It was near the back of the lot, beside a crooked tree.   
  
"It's crowded today," Marge said.  
  
"Well," Molly said,getting out of the car. She slammed the door.   
  
As she did, she heard laughter.  
  
She turned around in time to see shadows retreating.  
  
She stuck her hand in her pocket, gripping her wand.  
  
The Try-N-Save seemed so far away.  
  
As they walked, Molly gritted her teeth.  
  
She glanced sideways, and saw two little girls ducking behind a Toyota.  
  
"Marge-"  
  
"Right here," Marge said,looking over her shoulder.  
  
A little boy dove under a minivan.  
  
"Twenty-six kids,you said?"   
  
"Right. They might have more."  
  
In front of them, a kid of indeterminate sex chased after a hula hoop.  
  
There was a BANG like a gunshot.  
  
The kid Disapparated.  
  
Marge gasped.  
  
"Voldemort," Molly said. "He's inside them."  
  
A bare tire rolled across the lot.  
  
"He can do that?"  
  
"Oh,yes. It's not for nothing we call him He Who Must Not Be Named."  
  
"You named him He Who Must Not Be Named? Isn't that redundant?"  
  
"Not for him, it isn't."  
  
"What if they attack us?"  
  
"Only two people have dueled with Voldemort and survived."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore is the only one Voldemort fears."  
  
"Who's the other one?"  
  
"Harry."  
  
A football sailed over their heads and bounced into the street.  
  
"Harry's been through a lot."  
  
"Oh, I know, Marge, believe me. Don't worry. I have my wand in my pocket. If   
  
worse comes to worse, I'll fight him to my last breath."  
  
"In that case, so will I."  
  
"Resistance, Marge. That's the key. I just think of my family."  
  
"Family," Marge said. "And our friends,too."  
  
"Right,them too."  
  
A kid was sitting by the entrance. He wore a patch on his torn shirt that read   
  
MY NAME IS and under that was DYLAN DELROY.   
  
"Hello,Molly," he said.   
  
"We're not afraid of you," Molly said.  
  
"You know, there are twenty-six of me right now," he said. "What makes you think   
  
you'll get out of this parking lot alive?"  
  
Molly pulled her wand out of her pocket.   
  
"Petrificus totalus," she said. A beam of light caught the kid unawares; he   
  
fell to the ground,stiff as a board.  
  
"Twenty-five to go," Molly said. "Let's go shopping."  
  
They entered Try-N-Save, which was as busy as it usually was.  
  
Molly was overwhelmed.  
  
"Look at all this...stuff," she said,stepping past the registers.  
  
"It must seem like a lot."  
  
Molly paused in front of a magazine rack.  
  
"It IS a lot. This place is like a, I don't know...it's so bloody BIG. Hogwarts   
  
is big, but this place..." She smiled. "You know this place,don't you?"  
  
"Well...yes."  
  
"Then we make a stand in here."  
  
"Are you serious?"  
  
"Of course,Marge. This place has a million potential weapons Voldemort doesn't  
  
understand. We can make them as we go."  
  
"Well..." Marge said,"I guess I need to pick up a few things."  
  
Molly smiled.  
  
"Excellent. Now where's the tea?"  
  
"Well,okay," Marge said. "It's two aisles over."  
  
"All right," Molly said. She smiled at Marge,and stepped around the corner-  
  
-and ran right into the man coming in the opposite direction.  
  
"Oh," Molly exclaimed; she had knocked the poor man to the ground,spilling  
  
everything he'd been holding.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she said.  
  
"No,no," the man said. "My fault." He was a slight,bespectacled man with   
  
messy gray hair and neatly pressed clothes. She handed him one of the things he'd   
  
dropped; one of those frozen dinner things.  
  
"Haven't seen you around," he said. "Are you new in town?"  
  
"I'm just visiting," she said,extending her hand. "Molly Weasley."  
  
"Waylon-"  
  
"SMITHERS! You staggering fortress of incompetence,what's taking so long?"  
  
His smile vanished.  
  
"I'm almost finished, Mr. Burns."  
  
Mr. Burns rounded the corner.  
  
He reminded Molly of a very decrepit praying mantis. He was an old man who had   
  
aged horribly,the antithesis of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Terribly sorry, sir," Molly said.   
  
He snatched a can of tuna out of her hand. "Spare me your apologies, you   
  
obstacular gold-bricking-"  
  
"Now,LISTEN-"  
  
Molly grabbed the can of tuna out of Burns's hand.  
  
Burns grabbed it back.  
  
As he did,the sleeve of his suit rode up on his arm.  
  
There was a wrinkled tattoo on his wrist.  
  
It was one Molly knew.  
  
-a black skull.  
  
She looked up at Burns.   
  
"It's you," she said.   
  
"Smithers, distract this maniacal woman."  
  
"You're the contact," Molly said.  
  
Smithers grabbed Burns by the wrist and ran towards the entrance.  
  
"Someone stop them," Molly yelled.   
  
No one stopped them.  
  
When they emerged from the store, the parking lot was empty.  
  
Except for a group of very dazed-looking children. 


	44. It Ate Eeeverybody

44.  
  
It Ate Eeeverybody  
  
  
  
Hagrid peeled a sliver away from the block of wood. He had been at it for awhile,   
  
and wasn't quite paying as much attention as he should have. He had cut his thumb   
  
open, and barely noticed that. His pain was nothing compared to what Harry must have   
  
been feeling in his head. There was really nothing he could do to ease Harry's pain,  
  
and it made him feel small. Beside him, Fang lay asleep.  
  
  
  
Wiggum opened his eyes. He pulled away from his wife and Ralph. "Hey," he said.  
  
"Hey," Hagrid said.  
  
"What are you making?"  
  
"A flute. I ain't concentratin',though."  
  
The door opened. Wiggum recognized the old man.  
  
"Ah, Chief," he said. "You're awake."  
  
"What happened last night?" he asked.  
  
"I'm sure you have a hundred questions," Dumbledore said. "Please be patient."  
  
Wiggum nodded.  
  
"Hagrid," Dumbledore said, "Harry's asking for you."  
  
Without question, he followed Dumbledore outside.  
  
"What's goin' on?" he asked.  
  
"Things look very grave,Hagrid." Dumbledore said. "We've tried to get through to  
  
the Ministry, to no avail. Portkeys just bounce back here, and the Floo Network  
  
doesn't work either. All communications have been severed."  
  
Harry was lying on a nearby bench, curled up like a baby, cradling Fawkes. McGonagall   
  
and Sprout were sitting with him, and they looked like lionesses.   
  
Hermione and Ron were on his other side, and Arthur Weasley was also sitting nearby.   
  
He looks like one of his kids just died, Hagrid thought, and then he connected the   
  
Ministry with Percy.   
  
"Hey, Hagrid," Harry said.  
  
He sat down beside Sprout, and took Harry's hand.  
  
"What d'yeh need, Harry?"  
  
"Just...stay with me,Hagrid." Harry said.  
  
"Right," Hagrid said.   
  
He looked around.  
  
"Where's Mrs. Riddle?"  
  
"Professor Snape is watching her."  
  
"And that Selma woman's watching him," Professor McGonagall said.  
  
"She likes him, doesn't she?" Harry asked.  
  
"And the feeling's mutual," Professor Sprout said.  
  
"It had to happen sometime," Ron said.  
  
Harry looked up at Dumbledore. "Sir-"  
  
"What is it, Harry?"  
  
"Remember, I told you Voldemort was angry?"  
  
"He's not angry now?"  
  
"He's furious. But now...he's happy,too. His thoughts are..."  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
Hermione said "Harry-"  
  
"Don't press him, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said.  
  
Harry opened his eyes. "Ehhxcellent..." he whispered.   
  
-and then he could hear the other man's every thought and it spread back from   
  
him until he could hear the thoughts of everyone in town including the people  
  
around him, a dense knot of languages and he screamed and-  
  
-opened his eyes. His clothes were soaked through with sweat.   
  
"Harry?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Harry had to take a breath. "I could hear his thoughts," he said. "What happened?"  
  
"You had a seizure," Dumbledore said. "You don't remember?"  
  
"No."  
  
"We kept yeh comfterble," Hagrid said. "Professor Dumbledore blocked yer  
  
tongue with a spoon."  
  
"My mother had epileptic seizures all the time," Sprout said. "It's nothing to   
  
be ashamed of, Harry. You don't mind if I call you Harry instead of 'Mr. Potter'  
  
right now, do you?"  
  
"I don't mind. Is Fawkes all right?"  
  
"Fawkes is fine," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Whose thoughts could you hear?" asked Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Voldemort's contact. And then it spread."  
  
"Voldemort's found his Springfield contact?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"He's inside him now...Burns. Mr. Burns, that's his name."  
  
Just as he said this, a car screeched to a halt by the curb.   
  
Mrs. Simpson and Mrs. Weasley emerged from the car, trying to run and scream at  
  
the crowd.   
  
"Voldemort found his contact," Mrs. Weasley said, out of breath. Mr. Weasley   
  
went to her and wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"It's Mr. Burns," Marge Simpson said. "He owns the nuclear power plant."  
  
"Gotta...stop him," Harry said.   
  
He sat up.  
  
Hagrid kept his hands on Harry's shoulders,but he knew Harry was right.  
  
"Hagrid, please let me go."  
  
Hagrid felt his hands slide away from Harry, as if they were numb.  
  
He swung his legs over the edge of the bench.  
  
Mrs. Weasley steadied him as he stood up.  
  
She let go, and his legs gave way.  
  
She caught him just in time, and sat him down.  
  
"You don't have to do this," she said, her hand at his forehead.  
  
He looked her straight in the eyes.  
  
"I'm the only one who can," he said.   
  
She touched his cheek.  
  
"Help me," Harry said.   
  
"Where do you want to go?"  
  
"Well," he looked embarrassed. "The bathroom-"  
  
"Say no more," she said.   
  
Another lioness, Hagrid thought, as Mrs. Weasley slung one of Harry's arms around  
  
her neck. "Ready?"  
  
"Ready."  
  
She and Harry traveled across the lawn, into the school.  
  
"What's he talking about?" Marge asked.  
  
"Harry is the only one who can kill Voldemort," Dumbledore said.  
  
"He is?"  
  
"Blimey. Why's that?" Ron asked.  
  
"That is for Harry to tell you," Dumbledore said.   
  
"I'm going with him," Ron said.  
  
"Ron-" Mr. Weasley began.  
  
"No, Dad, I'm going. For Harry. Hermione, you're coming too, right?"  
  
"Of course-" She raised her eyebrows.   
  
Selma was standing at the head of the table now.  
  
"You're Hermione, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"What do you think of Professor Snape?"  
  
Hermione looked at Dumbledore.  
  
"Tell the truth, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione turned to Selma.  
  
"I don't think I should answer. If he finds out I told you, he'll take points   
  
away from our House-"  
  
"He will?"  
  
"Yes, he will."  
  
"He won't find out you told me."  
  
"In that case..." Hermione thought a moment. "He's the worst person I've ever met."  
  
Professor McGonagall suddenly turned away and covered her face.  
  
"I second that," Ron said.  
  
"Not your favorite teacher,huh?"  
  
"Are you thinking of asking him out on a date?" Ron asked.  
  
"I'm thinking of a lot more than that."  
  
Ron looked ready to vomit slugs again.  
  
"Well," Sprout said, "Good luck to you, I say."  
  
"Thanks," Selma said. After a moment, she said,"I had to get away from that old lady.  
  
The things she said creeped me out."  
  
"What did she say?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Personal things," Selma said. "Severus told her to stop. Really, she's a sweet  
  
old lady, but there's something about her...it's like she can't help it..."  
  
"I should check on them," Dumbledore said. Then he got up from the table and   
  
left the group. Selma followed him.  
  
Harry emerged from the back doors. Surprisingly, no one was helping him walk.  
  
Mrs. Weasley stood behind him, and beside her: Alastor Moody. Harry,in front of   
  
them, took staggering steps while Moody coached him.  
  
"Left foot...there ya go...right foot...excellent, Potter..."  
  
Harry leaned against the picnic table. He looked like he'd just run a race.  
  
Moody flashed a rakish grin, and then Disapparated.  
  
"Mrs. Simpson," Harry said, "Could I trouble you for a ride?"  
  
"Where would you like to go?"  
  
"The power plant," Harry said.   
  
"We're coming," Hermione said.  
  
"Well...all right. But only because-"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Homer," she said. "We have to save him."  
  
"Fine," Harry said. "Guys, you can come for the ride."  
  
Hermione and Ron took off running towards Mrs. Simpson's car. Mrs. Simpson followed.  
  
Harry turned.  
  
Then he realized something. This might be the last time-  
  
He didn't want to cry, but a tear escaped. He wiped it away.  
  
"Well," he said. "I have to go. I don't know if I'm coming back. I just-" He  
  
looked from the people with him at the table-Hagrid, McGonagall, Sprout, and the  
  
Weasleys.  
  
They looked just as sad as he did. "There's really nothing   
  
I can say to express my gratitude," he said. "All of you...you're-"  
  
He turned just in time to be swept into Hagrid's embrace.  
  
"Don't forget me," Harry said,into Hagrid's ear. "Hagrid,I-"  
  
"I know, Harry, I know yeh do. Yeh'd be impossible t'forget. I know it  
  
sounds corny, but I think of yeh as part o'my family. Son I never had, yeh know?"  
  
He kissed the top of Harry's head, knowing that if there were any way he   
  
could have bore Harry's burden, he gladly would have.   
  
"Kick his arse," he told Harry. "He owes me money, yeh know."  
  
Reluctantly, he let go.  
  
Harry turned to Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout.   
  
"Potter, if you think I'm going to allow us to succumb to sentimental...oh,  
  
forget it. Come here." and he was very surprised when she kissed him on the cheek.   
  
Behind him, Professor Sprout tried to get her arms around them both. "Come back,   
  
Potter," she said.   
  
McGonagall was smiling when she let him go.  
  
She took his hand.  
  
"You can do this, Potter. I know you can," she said. "I know YOU."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Then, there were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"Come on, Harry," said Mr. Weasley.   
  
"We'll walk you to the car," said Mrs. Weasley.  
  
The car seemed so far away.  
  
At least it felt that way. Harry felt that this was what his own parents would   
  
have done. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, on either side of him, held his hand.   
  
"Harry?"   
  
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?"  
  
"I don't want to think you're not coming back to us. So could I just ask you if  
  
you would consider...well, if you'd consider staying with us instead of those   
  
people-"  
  
"Let me think about it," Harry said, laughing weakly. "Yes. I'd like that. Have  
  
you discussed it with Dumbledore?"  
  
"I've had many discussions with him about you-"   
  
"Potter."  
  
Snape practically spat it out.  
  
"Excuse me," Harry said. He looked up at the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley gave him  
  
one last hug and Mr. Weasley squeezed his shoulder. It gave him strength.  
  
He turned from them.   
  
He stopped a ways from Snape. Like Filch, Snape was best viewed from far away.  
  
"What do you want, sir?"  
  
"Since this is hopefully the last time I'll ever see you, I just wanted to   
  
say something before it was too late."  
  
"I'll probably forget it in ten minutes anyway."  
  
Snape looked as if he were counting to ten in his head.  
  
"Potter, I seriously doubt-"  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
"I seriously doubt you can kill the Dark Lord-"  
  
"Yeah...well, since this is the probably the last time I'll ever see you...sir...  
  
I'd just like to say that I've stopped caring what you think about me."  
  
"Are you saying that you did care?"  
  
"Before the very first Potions class. I was scared to death. I didn't know anything   
  
about our world. My other teachers made me feel welcome, and then...fame isn't all   
  
it's cracked up to be, is it? That's what you said, without the slightest inclination   
  
that I didn't know. I'm amazed you haven't told me to shut my mouth yet. Or said   
  
something about my father."  
  
"Potter-"  
  
"One day, there's not going to be anyone left for you to hate, Professor. On that  
  
day, I hope you're prepared."  
  
"If that day ever comes," Snape said.  
  
"My father's dead. You're fighting a dead man."  
  
"You have no idea what I'm fighting, Potter."  
  
"I don't want to know. What did you want to say?"  
  
"Right now, I'd like to give you an eternity's detention."  
  
Harry put up his hands. It took effort. "All right,c'mon...just say what you  
  
have to say."  
  
"All I have to say is this: Kill him, Potter. I don't think you can do it, but I'm a   
  
lifelong pessimist. I know you. Despite my best efforts, you have managed to   
  
rise above everything I've thrown at you. So do us both a favor and destroy him."  
  
"You'd be free of him if he dies, right?"  
  
"Yes," Snape said. "I must go now. Besides,there's one more who'd like a word."  
  
Snape swept away, and Harry saw that one more person by the front doors of the  
  
school.   
  
Dumbledore.   
  
It didn't matter how far he had to walk.   
  
Harry closed the distance between them.  
  
"Now you know why I'm hardly ever around at this point," he said, looking as old as   
  
Harry had ever seen him.  
  
"Usually, nobody is," Harry said.  
  
Dumbledore smiled.   
  
"I don't want to do this," Harry said, "But I'm the only one who can."  
  
Dumbledore closed his eyes, and nodded.   
  
He doesn't want me to go, Harry thought.  
  
"I remember you said something..." Harry said. "About choosing between what's  
  
right and what's easy...sir, it applies to you, too, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, it does."   
  
"Sir-I just...thank you. For everything."  
  
"I should be the one thanking you."  
  
Harry touched his arm.  
  
Dumbledore pulled Harry to him.  
  
"Just think of the people who love you," he said. "Think of home, of family. And   
  
here-" he handed Harry a bag of lemon drops. "For the journey."  
  
Harry took them.  
  
"You've made me so proud," said Dumbledore. "I can't tell you how much."  
  
"Goodbye, sir. There's still some things I don't know, but there's no time to ask.  
  
If I don't come back...bury me with my family."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes shuddered. But he bowed his head, and nodded.   
  
"Bye."  
  
Harry turned from him, and staggered over to the car. Hermione opened the door.  
  
Ron helped him get inside.  
  
------  
  
Bart sat across from a kid named Draco Malfoy in Defense Against The Dark Arts,  
  
and he got the impression that Draco couldn't care less about defending himself  
  
against the things they were studying. This class was for defending yourself against   
  
people like Draco. He was a nasty kid who would have been beaten up every day if he   
  
attended Springfield Elementary. Dolph, Jimbo, Kearney and Nelson would have been   
  
holding him upside-down in the toilet, catching anything that just happened to fall   
  
out of his pockets every single day.  
  
"Simpson," Malfoy hissed.  
  
"What is it?" Bart asked.  
  
"You read the homework, right?"  
  
"We had homework?"  
  
"Of course we had homework. Simpson, you're lucky McGonagall isn't teaching this   
  
week. You'd be buried under a pile of parchment so large, no one would ever find   
  
you. Then again, you're one of hers."  
  
"One of her what?"  
  
"She's head of bloody Gryffindor."  
  
"Oh yeah," Bart said. "What was the homework, again?"  
  
"The section on Joachim Kroll."  
  
"Oh. Well,yeah, I did read it. I've never had a teacher who made us study   
  
about serial killers and homicidal maniacs before, is all." He looked down   
  
at the class text, a big red book called HUNTING HUMANS.  
  
"You did have Defense classes in Bonerland, right?"  
  
"BonerVILLE."  
  
"Whatever," he smirked. "You know, there's a town in Ohio called River Styx?"  
  
"I didn't know that."  
  
"Well, Chillinger knows what he's doing. I don't agree with the Headmaster on   
  
many things. Bloody fool if you ask me. But learning to recognize behavioral   
  
patterns and studying these people was a good idea. You weren't here when we   
  
learned about Jeffrey Dahmer or Jack The Ripper. He even taught us self-defense,  
  
on land and underwater."  
  
The classroom door opened. "Class," Professor Chillinger said, as the three  
  
of him came into the room. "I'm not prepared," whispered the one bringing up  
  
the rear-"I can't DO this-"  
  
Sometimes, Bart had trouble paying attention to Mrs. Krabappel. Having to   
  
focus on three teachers at once, even if they were technically the same person,  
  
felt like an impossible task. Fortunately, the other kids in the class just   
  
let him talk. Joachim Kroll was a very evil, unsavory guy from Germany who   
  
sliced men, women and children up without remorse. He had cannibalistic tendencies.  
  
  
  
His picture in the book made Bart think of what Hans Moleman's Bizarroworld   
  
counterpart would look like.  
  
"-neighbor asked him about the clog in his toilet-"  
  
A spirit floated through the wall.   
  
Bart had met Nearly Headless Nick, and had at least seen most of the Hogwarts ghosts.  
  
He hadn't talked to Professor Binns; he sat in the back of History Of Magic, and  
  
Binns barely knew he was there.   
  
"Ah," Professor Chillinger said. "Professor Binns. To what do we owe this   
  
unexpected visit?"  
  
"Oh...er..." He stared at Chillinger as if he'd never seen him before.  
  
"Maybe you'll remember later," another one of the Chillingers said. "Maybe."  
  
Binns descended through the floor.  
  
"Right," Chillinger said. "Let that be a lesson to you, class. This is Defense   
  
Against the Dark Arts. Not dead old farts."  
  
The class laughed.  
  
  
  
"Now...what did Kroll say...Mr. Simpson?"  
  
Bart snapped his head up. "Oh. Uh..."  
  
"Guts," breathed several voices behind him.   
  
"Guts," Bart said. By now, he was sure the other kids knew he was a fake.   
  
"Very good, Simpson. For some bonus points, do you remember the specific   
  
innards with which Mr. Kroll's toilet was clogged?"  
  
"You mean, whose were they?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"I dunno," Bart said.  
  
"They were-"  
  
The bell rang.  
  
"Oh, well, we'll find out next time," Chillinger said. "Mr. Malfoy, could I see you,  
  
please?"  
  
"Catch you later," Bart said.  
  
"They'll never catch me," Draco said.  
  
Bart laughed, and left.  
  
Draco could not help but wonder...had he just made a friend in Gryffindor?  
  
"I see you and Simpson are getting on," Chillinger said.  
  
One of the other Chillingers put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"You said 'getting it on'."  
  
"No," Chillinger said, with extreme patience. "That's not what I said. Don't make  
  
me lock you in the wardrobe again."  
  
"There's a monster in the wardrobe," the other Chillinger said.  
  
"Is there really?" Draco asked.  
  
"A boggart, I think."  
  
"A boggart?" The Chillinger trembled.  
  
"A boggart, that's all, Malfoy." Chillinger smiled. "I named him Floyd."  
  
"Floyd?"  
  
"I was going to call him Humphrey, but he didn't like that."  
  
"Why did you want to talk to me, sir? Did I not turn something in?"  
  
"No, Mr. Malfoy. Your work is exemplary. Only one detention in six years. Oh,  
  
but of course, that reprimand from the Ministry last year for being on Dolores  
  
Umbridge's toady squad-"  
  
"They were just saving face," Draco said.   
  
"I'm sure that's what Dolores Umbridge would say. If she weren't dead, of course."  
  
"She's dead?" Draco asked. "When did that happen?"  
  
"Over the summer," Chillinger said. "She was caught in a drive-by shooting. I  
  
believe it was a gang called the Bloods."  
  
Draco shrugged his shoulders. "My prefect badge was taken away. I'll live."  
  
Chillinger shook his head. "Not as you did. People are watching you, Malfoy.  
  
People know there's a wolf underneath that ragged sheep's carcass you wear."  
  
"A snake,you mean."  
  
"A snake in sheep's clothing, yes. I have been watching you. Learning about you.  
  
I know what you tried to do to Rubeus Hagrid. I know about Buckbeak. Until that  
  
reprimand, there were no behavioral blemishes on your record, except for one   
  
detention in your first year. You're careful. I know you're on a path into darkness   
  
you only think you can comprehend. What I wanted to talk to you about is Harry   
  
Potter."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes.   
  
"You know how many kids grew up hearing about Harry Potter? My entire generation.  
  
And believe me, we all wanted to be Harry Potter's friend. I wanted to be Potter's  
  
friend-"  
  
"Yes, Malfoy, I've heard all about your people skills."  
  
"What about Potter?" Malfoy asked,suddenly cranky.  
  
"Draco, are you familiar with Nietzche?"  
  
"Professor Snape's recommended him a few times. Him and Machiavelli."  
  
"He."  
  
"What?"  
  
"HE and Machiavelli."  
  
Draco slumped in his chair.  
  
----  
  
"Is he gone?" Minerva asked.  
  
Dumbledore took his eyes from the road.  
  
"He is," Dumbledore said. "Minerva, there's so many things I didn't tell him-"  
  
They exchanged handkerchiefs.  
  
"We must be strong," Minerva said.   
  
"He's my strength," Dumbledore said. "...as are you. As you have always been."  
  
"I'm so lucky," she said,kissing his cheek; he kissed her; for a moment, they were   
  
one, like an ancient sculpture...missing a piece.  
  
-----  
  
Hagrid burst into tears the second Harry was gone.  
  
"Yeh know I love 'im, don't yeh?"  
  
Addie nodded. "I know, Hagrid." She stood beside him, wiping his eyes dry, which  
  
was hard, because he was sobbing so; she could have killed an army of slugs with  
  
the salt from his tears. "Of course I know," she said. She usually tried to distance  
  
herself from her students, except when they needed help. Harry,though, Harry had such  
  
a sweet concern for life, almost as acute as Neville Longbottom's. There would always  
  
be an intangible bond between them, terrible though it was, as he had brought   
  
Cedric Diggory's body back from their abduction by Voldemort. Last year, she   
  
had read the interview he'd given about that night, and it had moved her to tears.  
  
"E's the reason I gave up drinkin'...well, most drinkin'...yeh didn't know me  
  
when I was hittin' the bottle."  
  
"And Harry made you stop."  
  
"'E made me wanna stop. I remembered the bleedin' Muggles 'e lives with,  
  
and I wanted ta be different. I wanted ta be like 'is own father, an' now...Addie,  
  
I feel like I'm 'bout ta lose m'own son."  
  
Hagrid looked at her.  
  
"Everyone I love is gonna die."  
  
-----  
  
"Can I ask a question?" Marge asked. "Why is Harry the only one who can kill...  
  
whatsisname?"  
  
"Voldemort," Hermione said.   
  
Ron winced. She hit him.  
  
"You'd have to ask Harry," she said.   
  
"How is he?"  
  
"He looks awful," Hermione said.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry announced.   
  
"You're burning up, Harry."  
  
"It's my scar," Harry said. "Are we close to the plant?"  
  
"Getting closer by the second," Marge said.  
  
"The prophecy," Harry said.  
  
"What-"  
  
----  
  
"-about Potter?" Draco asked.  
  
"Are you familiar with the Nietzchean concept of the Superman?"  
  
Draco smirked. "Are you saying that Potter fits Nietszche's ideal of a Superman?"  
  
"Such people are exceptional and should not be expected to be chained by society's  
  
every little rule."  
  
"Nietzche never said that. You're getting him confused with-I don't remember her  
  
name, but-"  
  
"You are holding Potter back, Malfoy. Not in a terribly serious way. More like   
  
a malfunctioning broom, or a faulty Bludger...or a mosquito, bereft of stinger.  
  
Well, my boy-"  
  
the other two Chillingers left the original, and moved behind Draco. He couldn't  
  
see what they were doing.  
  
"-mosquitoes usually get squashed."  
  
Suddenly, one of the Chillingers reached around Draco and pulled his arms around  
  
the back of the chair. Draco cried out in surprise, and had no time to suck a   
  
breath of air before the bag closed over his head.  
  
----  
  
Wiggum handed Mrs. Riddle his backup piece.  
  
"Just in case," he said.   
  
"A gun?" she asked. "I don't-"  
  
"You might need it," he said.  
  
"All right," she said.  
  
He smiled. "Great. Now I'm not so worried."  
  
---  
  
"-The prophecy is about me," Harry said.   
  
"Seriously?" Ron asked.  
  
"Either I kill Voldemort or he'll kill me."  
  
He repeated the prophecy to them. It had practically been burnt into his brain.  
  
"That's the prophecy?" Hermione asked.  
  
"It was made by Professor Trelawney," Harry said. "There are two people   
  
it could have been about...either me or Neville. Voldemort marked me, so  
  
I'm the one who-"  
  
"Maybe Trelawney was wrong," Ron said. "In fact, she probably WAS wrong. And   
  
how is Neville-"  
  
"We have the same birthday," Harry said. "July thirty-first."  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"There are things I don't know," he said.  
  
"What things?" Hermione asked.  
  
"The room," Harry said. "The room we couldn't get into. Dumbledore told me   
  
it's always kept locked and what's inside is..." he tried to remember. "'More   
  
terrible than death, and..." Nausea swept over him. "Oh, GOD. Stop the car."  
  
Mrs. Simpson stopped in the middle of an intersection. Harry opened his door  
  
and let loose a torrential jet of emesis.   
  
----  
  
"So," Selma said, "You can read my mind?"  
  
"Oh, dear, like a book." Mrs. Riddle smiled. "Yours is especially raunchy."  
  
"Are you still here?" Snape asked.  
  
Selma grinned at him.  
  
"Sure," she said.   
  
He scowled.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I'd deeply appreciate it if you'd leave."  
  
"I'd like to stay here."  
  
"I wouldn't advise it."  
  
"Are you going to make me leave?"  
  
"I-"  
  
"What'll you do, take POINTS from my HOUSE?"  
  
He gave her a look of utter hatred.  
  
----  
  
Draco stopped thrashing.  
  
"Hrmmmf hrmff mhrfff grffff-"  
  
Chillinger took the bag off his head.  
  
"Sir, what the bloody hell are you doing?"  
  
Chillinger looked up at the other two of him.  
  
"You IDIOTS. This is a PAPER bag."  
  
"You wanted plastic?"  
  
"I KNEW I should've gotten plastic."  
  
"Relax," he said. "I knew this would happen."  
  
"My FATHER-"  
  
"Oh, your father," said Chillinger, and slipped the plastic bag over Draco's head.  
  
-----  
  
"A room full of love?" Marge asked.  
  
"Dumbledore told me, years ago," Harry said. "Voldemort doesn't understand love,  
  
and that's how I got him out of me last year...I thought about Sirius..."  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
"My godfather," Harry said. "He's dead. He was killed."  
  
Harry thought for a second.  
  
"He couldn't stand being in my body or my mind while I was feeling such strong   
  
emotion. I...practiced all summer, thinking about...everyone...you guys. Dumbledore-"  
  
He stopped again.  
  
"Dumbledore told me he loved me yesterday."  
  
"I could have told you THAT," Hermione said.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"An idiot could see how much he loves you. Whenever you've been flat on your  
  
back,unconscious in the infirmary, who do you think is the first one at your  
  
side? He worries about you as if he were-" She stopped. "Harry?"  
  
Harry's eyes had rolled back into his head.  
  
-----  
  
It didn't take long for Draco Malfoy to suffocate.  
  
"Oh, I think he's DEAD," said Chillinger's id.  
  
"He looks dead," said his ego.  
  
"He IS dead," said Chillinger. He supposed he was the superego. Sometimes it  
  
was difficult to tell what exactly that witch had intended.   
  
"Where are we going to put him?"  
  
"Where do you think?"   
  
"That's why he's asking, I think."  
  
"Since you asked...I think we'll let Ronan have him. He hasn't eaten in a while."   
  
-----  
  
"Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort VOLDEMORT-"  
  
"Be QUIET-"  
  
"You're just so accustomed to picking on people who can't fight back without  
  
consequences, you've lost the ability to emotionally connect with anyone."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes. "Spare me."  
  
"Is something the matter, Severus?"  
  
Snape didn't even have to turn around.  
  
"Well, sir...I'm attempting to convince Selma that the best place to be   
  
right now is not neccessarily around me."  
  
"Severus, I suggest you-"  
  
He spun around on his heel. "WHAT? WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST,you silly old bastard?  
  
For years, I have been putting up with your nursery-rhyme nonsense without a   
  
a word of dissent, but right now I feel like I could say just about ANYTHING-"  
  
----  
  
Marge ducked.  
  
"There's an owl in the car," she said.  
  
"Hedwig," Harry said. She flew to him.  
  
"She knows," Hermione said.  
  
"I have to do this," Harry told her. "Ron, would you take Hedwig if I-"  
  
For the first time, the fact that this might be his last moments with Harry  
  
sank in. He bit his lip, and nodded.  
  
Hedwig screeched, more upset than Harry had ever seen her.  
  
----  
  
"Hell," Hagrid said, "It could be worse."  
  
He blew his nose.  
  
"Instead of a complete outcast, I coulda-"  
  
"You're not a complete outcast."  
  
"I ain't welcome in either world."  
  
"That's not true. People look up to you."  
  
"They ain't got a choice."  
  
Sprout laughed.  
  
"See?" she said,in the midst of her laughter. "You make people laugh, Hagrid.  
  
You make people feel good about themselves. We all love you, even Snape. I certainly  
  
wouldn't have moved in on you if-"  
  
"You moved in on me? Nah. If I remember correctly-wait, yeah, you did make the  
  
first move. I woulda, but-"  
  
"We belong together, Hagrid. We are of the earth, the soil, the rain-"  
  
----  
  
"WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?"  
  
He stopped in front of the picnic bench.  
  
"Somethin' wrong, Professor?"  
  
"Yes, something's wrong, Hagrid." He said this through gritted teeth. "I'm tired   
  
of looking at you. I don't know why Dumbledore keeps you around. You're like a   
  
a...a big ugly mongrel that keeps getting kicked around and keeps coming back   
  
for more-"   
  
"Somethin' IS wrong," Hagrid said.  
  
"I must agree," said Dumbledore, behind Snape. "Severus...I know you would never   
  
consider speaking to us like this unless a great burden is on your mind. Therefore,   
  
we shall not take offense at what you said...or might say in the near future."  
  
"What I...MIGHT say?"  
  
----  
  
The door opened, and a shaft of light sliced through the decrepit room.  
  
Ronan winced. Then he raised his head from the filthy floor.   
  
He came down the stairs, one by one.  
  
Each of them carried a bundle in their arms.  
  
"Afternoon,Ronan," Chillinger said. "Did you think I forgot about you?"  
  
He dropped the bundles in front of Ronan, and thanked Merlin the Imperius  
  
Curse worked on centaurs.  
  
"Smells human," Ronan said. "Have you brought me an innocent?"  
  
"This one wasn't what I'd call innocent."  
  
"I ate a spider yesterday. It was easy because I named it after you."  
  
Chillinger laughed.  
  
"There are no stars down here," Ronan said. "Can you at least tell me where   
  
Mars is tonight?"  
  
"I wouldn't know Mars from Jupiter."  
  
The three of them turned as one.  
  
"See you later," he said.  
  
---  
  
"I saw him," Harry said. "He's in this big room, and there's a door-"  
  
"The reactor," Marge said. "Oh my God."  
  
"How far is it?" Harry asked.  
  
"It's not far," Marge said. "Oh, I hope Homey is all right."  
  
"Your husband works at the plant?" Ron asked.  
  
"He's the safety inspector," said Marge. "Can you see him?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't," Harry said.   
  
Marge stomped on the accelerator.  
  
-----  
  
Ralph woke up.  
  
There was an old lady smiling down at him.  
  
----  
  
"Severus, what is it? You know I'll listen, whatever it is."  
  
"No," Severus said. "There's only one thing you can do for me."  
  
Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"  
  
Severus brushed his hand off. "Get away from me. I don't want any more of your  
  
guidance, or your friendship. You are nothing to me. You never were."  
  
He turned away, just as the three o'clock bell rang.  
  
----  
  
Moody came across Lupin, sleeping on a bench, near the statue of Jebediah   
  
Springfield. He looked sicker than usual.  
  
He shook Remus awake.  
  
"What time is it?" he asked.  
  
"Nearly three," Moody said. "Rough night?"  
  
Remus put his hands over his face. "I'm hung over."  
  
"Just thought you should know...Harry has gone after Voldemort."  
  
"He has? Wh-" He tried to get up, but quickly relented.   
  
After a moment, he said,"So...this could be it."  
  
"Could be," Moody said.  
  
"I never even got to say goodbye."  
  
"Hell of a kid," Moody said.  
  
"Damn right," Remus said.  
  
----  
  
Marge pulled into the parking lot.  
  
"Oh my Lord," she said.  
  
There were people sprawled everywhere.  
  
"I don't want to drive over these people," she said.  
  
"That's okay," Harry said. "Thank you for the ride."  
  
  
  
He opened the door, and got out.  
  
"Harry, wait," Hermione said.  
  
She joined him outside. So did Ron.  
  
"Well," Harry said. "This is it."  
  
"Harry, you have to live," Hermione said. "Nothing will be the same without you."  
  
"We had a great time together," Harry said. "You guys are the best."  
  
Hermione and Ron threw themselves at Harry.  
  
A moment passed, with the three of them entangled.  
  
"Time for me to go," Harry said. "Name one of your kids after me."  
  
Hermione kissed him on the cheek.  
  
Then she climbed back into the car, leaving Ron and Harry alone.  
  
They stared at each other.  
  
"I wish you didn't have to do this," Ron said. "It isn't fair."  
  
"I don't know what to say, Ron. Just that you were the best friend and the   
  
best brother anyone ever had."  
  
Ron grinned. "My pleasure, mate." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now go in there  
  
and permanently incapacitate his arse."  
  
He sat in the car, beside Hermione. Mrs. Simpson backed out of the lot, and   
  
burned rubber down the street.  
  
----  
  
The three o'clock bell rang.  
  
The door to Hagrid's place burst open.  
  
On top of Mrs. Riddle's shoulders, Ralph laughed. "Look, Daddy, I'm a tumor-"  
  
"Hey,Ralphie,be careful up there-"  
  
The back doors opened. Edna Krabappel stretched as she emerged from the building.  
  
"My gosh, it's gloomy out here," she said. "Mrs. Riddle, I hate to ask, but  
  
could you help me?"  
  
"Just let me put down Ralphie first," she said. She put Ralph down.  
  
Then she followed Edna Krabappel into the building.  
  
---  
  
"Are all the children gone?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Except for the Wiggum boy," McGonagall said. "They've all gone home."  
  
A car jumped the curb and pulled onto the grass. Mrs. Simpson looked   
  
frantic; Ron and Hermione were quite upset as well.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," said Mrs. Simpson,"I can't find Lisa."  
  
----  
  
Lucius Malfoy met Harry at the door,but there was no need for action. The man's  
  
insides were spilling out of his stomach, despite his best efforts to hold them  
  
in. He had plunged his arms into himself, in an effort to delay the inevitable.  
  
Harry turned away when it happened.  
  
"Good riddance," he said.  
  
----  
  
Sarah Wiggum woke up alone.  
  
She wondered where Clancy and Ralph were.  
  
----  
  
"Where'd they go?" Sprout asked.  
  
"Lookin' for Lisa," Hagrid said.   
  
"I don't think I met Lisa."  
  
"Hermione Granger, age eight."  
  
---  
  
Harry had seen Weylon Smithers in his head, and that was how he identified   
  
the body lying just outside Mr. Burns's office. Of course, there were no   
  
signs of any kind of trauma. It was as if he'd just fallen over dead.  
  
He opened the door to the office, but the room was empty.   
  
----  
  
"What did you need?" Mrs. Riddle asked.  
  
"Oh...it's one of Seymour's diplomas. I can't get it to stay on the wall-"  
  
---  
  
Dumbledore had stayed behind, because he was worried about Snape, but he promised   
  
to catch up with them.  
  
"Do you have any of Lisa's personal effects in the car?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"No," Marge said. "Why?"  
  
"I'm somewhat of a psychometrician."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
---  
  
Five minutes later, Harry found Homer Simpson.  
  
He had died near the vending machines; the machine had failed to deliver the   
  
Whatchamacallit bar, and above it, aborted delivery of a donut. Harry figured   
  
it was the last thing Mr. Simpson ever saw.  
  
From his position, it probably looked like an angel.  
  
"Sorry," Harry said.  
  
Nearby, a black man sat at a table. He was shaking,but alive.  
  
"Hi," Harry said.  
  
"Huh...h-hah...hey."  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Muh-my blood's...disappearing. Muh...Mr. Burns k-k-killed everybody. Did  
  
suh-something to me."  
  
"It's not Burns," Harry said. "There's something inside him."  
  
"You...g-guh-gotta stop him...whu-what's your name?"  
  
"Harry. Harry Potter."  
  
"Carl. Carl Cuh-cuh-Carlson."  
  
There was a blanket nearby.  
  
Harry wrapped it around him.  
  
"Thanks...I'm still...c-c-cold."  
  
"I'll stay with you," Harry said.  
  
Carl shook his head. "Nah. Go."  
  
----  
  
"I swear, I put those stupid screws here."   
  
Edna placed the screwdriver on the desk.  
  
Mrs. Riddle's attention wandered down to the screwdriver.  
  
----  
  
In the parking lot, Snape ran into Principal Skinner.  
  
"Oh, hello, young man. You're Snape, aren't you?"  
  
"Severus Snape," said Snape. "I don't suppose you're headed home."  
  
"I certainly am. Do you need a ride?"  
  
"...yes."  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"Something is wrong, yes."  
  
"Running's not the answer," Skinner said.  
  
"There's no right answer here," Snape said.  
  
He lunged at Skinner.  
  
----  
  
For a moment, the only two people in the room were Harry and Burns.  
  
"Ahhhh," he said. He looked like an ancient grasshoper. "We've been waiting for you,   
  
young man."  
  
Then there were two of them; Burns and Voldemort.  
  
Voldemort looked bad. He had wasted away considerably since last year.  
  
He turned to Burns, and then the man was ten feet in the air, gasping for breath,  
  
his legs windmilling.  
  
Burns dropped to the floor.  
  
Voldemort frowned at Harry.  
  
----  
  
Skinner grabbed Snape by the hand, and drew him into his knee. He imagined a   
  
BOFF! sound effect exploding above their heads.  
  
Snape staggered back, and then tried it again.  
  
"This is a waste of time," Skinner said, dodging him.  
  
Snape fell to the pavement, then launched himself off of it.  
  
Skinner tripped him this time, and then put him in a full nelson  
  
(nelson muntz?)  
  
"Stop it," Skinner said, as Snape fought.  
  
----  
  
"What are you doing here, Potter?"  
  
"I've come to realize that I'll never really be able to defeat you, so I'm   
  
here to join forces with you."  
  
"Are you serious, Potter?"  
  
"No," he said. "I'm Harry."  
  
"Don't test my patience, Potter."  
  
"Don't tell me what to do," Harry said. He held the bag out to Voldemort. "Lemon   
  
drop?"  
  
----  
  
Skinner's diploma fell off the wall again.  
  
Edna blew a breath of air that disturbed her hair.  
  
She looked down at the desk.  
  
"Where's the screwdriver?"  
  
----  
  
"Potter, it is because of you that I am in this condition," Voldemort said. "It  
  
was right there, in your tiny little mind, and I missed it."  
  
"Guess my mind isn't as useless as you thought," Harry said.  
  
Voldemort scowled. Harry's scar erupted in pain, and Harry swayed on his feet.  
  
"You needn't fight," Burns said,twisted on the floor. "Think of the power,boy."  
  
Voldemort looked down at Burns.  
  
"You have outlived your usefulness," he said.  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that-"  
  
"ADAVA KEDAVRA!"  
  
"No-"   
  
Green light slammed into Burns, and that was the end of him.  
  
----  
  
"I'm surprised, Severus," Dumbledore said. "In all our time together, I have  
  
never known you to do anything like this."  
  
Snape couldn't look at him.  
  
"Why won't you forsake me?"   
  
"You know why, Severus."  
  
----  
  
"And now," Voldemort said, "You're next, Potter."  
  
"That's the prophecy," Harry said.  
  
"That I would kill you? We both knew that would happen."  
  
"No," Harry said. "That's not the prophecy."  
  
"No matter," Voldemort said. "Besides, I'm perfectly aware you're not going down  
  
without a pointless display of defiance, piddling though it might be. Now raise your  
  
wand."  
  
"Hang on a second," Harry said. "First, tell me what you're doing here."  
  
"Oh," Voldemort said. "Right. Well, you've got my mother, so I put my ultimate  
  
contingency plan into effect. I'm going to step into the reactor, absorb all the   
  
radiation, and finally achieve my dream of immortality."  
  
Good, Harry thought. Have fun playing in the nuclear reactor.  
  
"And now," he said, "For my other bid at immortality. Draw your wand, Potter."  
  
It happens now, Harry thought. One of us dies right now.  
  
Harry pulled his wand from his pocket.  
  
---  
  
"It was right here, just a second ago."  
  
"Maybe it fell under the desk," Mrs. Riddle said. "I can't,dear,my back-"  
  
Krabappel nodded.  
  
----  
  
Then he remembered something.  
  
"Can I ask a question?"  
  
"A question." Voldemort looked amused. "Very well."  
  
"Is there any other reason you're bent on killing me, other than the reasons I  
  
know?"  
  
"That depends. What do you know? Never mind, I'll just draw it out of your head."  
  
He pointed his wand at Harry. "Legillimens."  
  
He never even recieved the first thought.   
  
Between them, there was an explosion of light.  
  
Voldemort looked at Harry from the floor.  
  
"You've been practicing," he said.  
  
---  
  
Snape looked at the group in front of him.  
  
"Let us help you, Severus," Dumbledore said.  
  
"No one can help me."  
  
----  
  
"You're only prolonging the inevitable. You knew this moment was coming, Potter.  
  
To answer your question, yes, I targeted you for death, you foolish boy, but don't   
  
you realize what your death will do to Dumbledore?"  
  
Harry's mouth fell open. "So...this entire time..."  
  
-he tried to get Dumbledore to KILL me last year-  
  
and then he thought:  
  
oh god, THAT'S what's worse than death-  
  
"The ultimate intent of all this is to break Dumbledore. There, I said it. Are  
  
you satisfied, Potter?"  
  
"Well, I've just put several things in perspective," Harry said.   
  
"Nothing like a clear conscience before the moment arrives," Voldemort said.   
  
"I'm amazed you don't see it," Harry said.  
  
"See what?"  
  
(you can't see that there are things worse than death. Different ways of destroying  
  
a man. Dumbledore told him-)  
  
"What's worse than death?"  
  
"NOTHING!"  
  
"YES, actually there ARE, you great thick prat."  
  
"Don't you dare-"  
  
"It's because of YOU that I'm talking this way," Harry said. "So live with it. I've  
  
had to live without my parents-" and so has Dumbledore and if I die-  
  
"Is that what's worse than death?"  
  
"So you finally figured it out." Harry clapped politely. "Very good, Tom."  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"Why not,TOM?"  
  
"You little brat, I am Lord Voldemort."  
  
"You're a delusional old fart."   
  
Voldemort raised his wand.  
  
Harry closed his eyes.  
  
He allowed the tip of his wand to touch the spot over his heart.  
  
----  
  
"Found it," Edna said, and slapped the screwdriver onto the desk in front of   
  
Mrs. Riddle.  
  
----  
  
A lot of things went through Harry's mind.  
  
He knew Dumbledore loved him, and so did the Weasleys. He supposed his teachers  
  
loved him, or had at least grown fond of him. He had wonderful friends who cared   
  
deeply about him, and a place that felt like home in Hogwarts and a wonderful world  
  
filled with people who believed in him.  
  
The question was this: was he capable of loving them in return?  
  
-----  
  
Mrs. Riddle picked up the screwdriver.  
  
-----  
  
"Where's Mrs. Riddle?" Snape asked.  
  
-----  
  
A moment later, he had the answer.  
  
"Yes," he said,his eyes still closed. He said it out loud, in open defiance of   
  
Voldemort's hatred. He thought of them all, even Snape. He thought of his parents  
  
and Sirius and Dumbledore and McGonagall and he got to where he was thinking about  
  
Grawp and Florian Fortescue and Mr. Ollivander and Doris Crockford and Tom at the   
  
Leaky Cauldron and that Daedalus Diggle guy-  
  
I call upon you all. I may be here, alone, but you are all with me-  
  
----  
  
Deep within the Ministry Of Magic lay the Department Of Mysteries. A year ago,  
  
there had been a ferocious battle there, and the damage had been sanitized. You'd  
  
never know anything had happened.  
  
In the darkness, there was movement. A figure, shadowed in darkness, moved across  
  
the floor, wand out, hands shaking. He knew this room. He'd had to scourgify the   
  
Xs that had been burnt onto the door by Hermione Granger. Of course, they could  
  
not open the one door. The door that was always locked.  
  
The door.  
  
Light crept out from under the door.  
  
"What-"  
  
Slowly, the door creaked open, and filled the larger room with light.  
  
He walked across the room, and stood in the doorway.   
  
What he saw dropped his jaw.  
  
The walls and ceiling and floor were covered with pictures of Harry Potter.  
  
Every one of the pictures were moving. In the front of the room was a screen.  
  
As he watched, the screen came to life.  
  
Strangely enough, he was familiar with the person onscreen. He had sort of gone  
  
astray from the man, and he felt bad about it. It was a surprise to see  
  
Albus Dumbledore up there, smiling at the camera. "Hello," he said, his   
  
voice filling the room. He cleared his throat. "If you are listening to this   
  
message, it means that Harry Potter has unlocked the door, the key to which  
  
is Harry himself. This room is not finished yet, and will not be complete  
  
until the end of Harry's life, which I, for one, hope does not come for a   
  
long, long time. Please do not touch anything in this room, as the entire display is   
  
in sync with Harry's brainwaves and heartbeat, and changes in deference to Harry's  
  
mood." Dumbledore paused. "At this moment, Harry may be gathering strength from the  
  
people who love him, myself included. If you see yourself among these pictures,  
  
consider yourself very lucky-"  
  
----  
  
Voldemort burst out laughing.   
  
It was a very diabolical laugh.   
  
"What are you doing?" he said,barely able to control himself.  
  
"What do you care?"  
  
"I just...before you die, Potter, I just want to thank you. For giving me the   
  
biggest laugh I've had in a long time."  
  
"As long as it's the last one."  
  
They tried to outdraw each other.  
  
Voldemort shouted the Killing Curse.  
  
Harry just let his arm fall towards Voldemort-  
  
-and Harry felt a strange prickling course through him, and all at once  
  
it escaped, through his wand, a silvery wall of energy that met the emerald  
  
light streaking towards Harry and absorbed it, and moved through Voldemort as if it   
  
were a knife and his skin were warm butter. It also eradicated the wall behind him.  
  
Voldemort's lips moved, but he formed no coherent words.  
  
There was a smoking crater in his chest; his insides had been blackened.  
  
He dropped the wand.   
  
Then he fell.  
  
Harry picked Voldemort's wand from the ground.  
  
He cracked the wand in half over his knee.  
  
There was a phoenix feather inside it. Harry wondered if Fawkes would want it  
  
back. It had been the core of a wicked wizard's wand,but-  
  
An alarm sounded, making Harry cover his ears.  
  
"The reactor has been breached," said a cool automated voice. "This is not  
  
a drill. Please follow your emergency action plan..."  
  
"Oh no," Harry said.  
  
----  
  
Mrs. Riddle grimaced. Her grip on the screwdriver tightened.  
  
Edna was talking about Skinner, but Mrs. Riddle couldn't hear her.  
  
She put a hand to her mouth to hold any emotional outbursts.   
  
Krabappel made a happy sound. "Here they are," she said, a   
  
box of screws in her hand.   
  
Of course, she dropped the box.   
  
Mrs. Riddle looked from her to the screwdriver and back again, watching  
  
her rummage around on the floor.  
  
----  
  
Snape clutched at his chest.   
  
"Oh, Merlin," he said. "He did it."  
  
"Severus, what is it?"  
  
"I'm having a heart attack," Snape said.  
  
----  
  
"All right," Edna said, "Now we're-"  
  
These were her last coherent words.  
  
As she stood, Mrs. Riddle rammed the screwdriver through her neck. She went  
  
down gurgling.  
  
Mrs. Riddle left the office, just in time to see Principal Skinner running down  
  
the hallway. "Call 911," he said, and instead, she reached into her pocket,  
  
pulled out Chief Wiggum's backup piece and shot Skinner right between the eyes;  
  
the bullet tore through the back of his head and sprayed the area behind him with  
  
powder-burnt brain matter.  
  
The music room door opened, and a gray-haired man emerged, looking naturally severe.  
  
He raised his eyebrows when he saw Skinner, but by that time, she had her wand out.  
  
"Gastronomordre," she said, and her curse hit Dewey Largo, who managed to say   
  
"Ohhhh-" and clutched at his stomach-  
  
"You gotta love the Entrail-Expelling Curse," she told him, just before the  
  
familiar sound of rupturing bowels made the front of his shirt bulge outwards.  
  
She looked at the clock on the wall. Three people in thirty seconds. Oh my.  
  
"More," she groaned.  
  
---  
  
Dumbledore caught him, and followed him on the way to the ground.  
  
"Haven't you ever wondered why I'm so awful to Potter?"  
  
"I know why, Severus. His father-"  
  
"Yes, his father stole Lily from me...but there's something more...ask Professor  
  
Trelawney about the third prophecy. It's about to come true."  
  
"A third prophecy?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"One that ensured Potter would be the death of me."  
  
"Isn't there something we can do?" Selma asked.  
  
"There's gotta be somethin'," Hagrid said.  
  
"Get me to a garbage disposal unit and stick my arm inside," Snape said.  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore said, "You never said-"  
  
"I never told you...surprised you didn't know...when the Dark Lord   
  
dies, all his followers follow...rather like that Muggle whose name   
  
eludes me...he headed a cult called The People's Temple? Jim something. Ah   
  
yes...Jim Jones."  
  
He looked up at Dumbledore.  
  
"I...apologize."  
  
"You don't need to apologize to me," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I...never thought you were a fool...you were my mentor...the father I could  
  
have had..."  
  
"Can we get you a priest or something?" Wiggum asked.  
  
"Don't you dare try to cleanse my soul," Snape said."Nothing can erase the things   
  
I've done." He looked at Sprout. "Tell Minerva...I couldn't have asked   
  
for a better rival."  
  
Professor Sprout wiped at her eyes. "Oh, Severus-"  
  
"Don't cry for me," Severus said. "I'm already dead."  
  
He looked up at Hagrid.  
  
"Thank you for trying, Hagrid. Keep Hogwarts beautiful. You and Sprout. Some  
  
of the most peaceful moments I've had...they were strolling on the grounds, searching  
  
for ingredients."  
  
"Yeh got it, Professor."  
  
A loud popping noise came from inside the school.  
  
"That was a gunshot," Wiggum said. "Excuse me."   
  
He ran towards the school.  
  
Snape shivered.  
  
"Don't worry, Severus," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Death is but the next great adventure," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Thank you, sir. I'd like you to have my books. Shakespeare and Machiavelli and...  
  
and...and-Nietzsche and-oh...my God-"  
  
With those words, Severus Snape died.  
  
----  
  
Wiggum ran into Superintendent Chalmers on the way into the school. He looked   
  
weird. It was his face; he could see through it, skull and muscles and brain and  
  
everything. "Superintedent Chalmers?"  
  
Chalmers opened his mouth to speak. It was like letting the air out of a balloon.  
  
A horrible squeaking noise issued from his mouth, followed by a huge, pressurized  
  
jet of blood, as his head deflated down to a featurless nub, and he fell over dead.  
  
----  
  
"Where's Tonks?" Remus asked.  
  
"Haven't seen her for awhile." Moody said.   
  
Lupin staggered to his feet. "Well...hope she's all right. I hope Harry's all right."  
  
He looked over at the statue of Jebediah Springfield.  
  
"This bloke watches over everybody," Remus said. To the statue, he yelled "Keep  
  
Harry safe, Jeb, old man. We care about him more than we can possibly elaborate."  
  
----  
  
Hagrid picked the object out of Snape's hand.  
  
"What is this?"  
  
Dumbledore took it from him and looked at the flower.  
  
"I believe it's called a-"  
  
He disappeared.  
  
"Bloody hell," Hagrid said. "A portkey."  
  
"I hope he went somewhere nice," Sprout said.  
  
----  
  
"Leee-saaa-"  
  
Marge met Professor McGonagall in the living room.  
  
"She's not in her room," McGonagall said.  
  
"She's not in the house," Marge said. "Where IS she-"  
  
"I'm sure she'll turn up."  
  
Dumbledore materialized in the room, just behind them.  
  
"Albus," McGonagall cried.  
  
He got to his feet.   
  
"Severus is dead, Minerva."  
  
McGonagall put a hand to her mouth.  
  
---  
  
Hagrid emerged from the hut. "E's not in there," Hagrid said.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The kid," Hagrid said. "Ralph. And his mother-"  
  
"Is Fang in there?"  
  
"Fang's asleep."  
  
"Where did Selma go?"  
  
"She ran off."  
  
Every window in the school exploded. A moment later, the building sagged, as  
  
if its foundation had been rocked.  
  
"It's that woman," Sprout said.  
  
"We gotta stop 'er."   
  
"I guess we do."  
  
He swept her off the ground, holding her as they kissed.  
  
---  
  
There was no one left to kill.  
  
She smiled down at the Wiggums. She had picked them off, one,two,three, as   
  
easily as trampling ants. The lights in the hallway flickered; her last   
  
indulgence had really taken a lot of energy, and ended up wasting the building.  
  
A great crack in the ceiling led down the hallway.  
  
"Well," she told Clancy Wiggum, "Thanks for the gun."  
  
She dropped it next to his hand.  
  
At that moment, the back doors were thrown open.   
  
"There ya are," the giant said.  
  
She grinned. He would be a lot of fun.  
  
"Don't hurt me," she said.  
  
The huge man frowned.  
  
As she backed through the front doors, she thought about his various habits, how he   
  
ate, drank, slept. She knew a lot about him, having seen him in her head, asleep,  
  
awake, clothed and nude. She knew he did not leave jobs undone. He would not   
  
quit until he had her.   
  
Smiling, she ducked out the front door.  
  
---  
  
Marge froze.  
  
"Maggie," she said. "WHERE'S MAGGIE?"  
  
---  
  
"Got 'er," Hagrid said.  
  
"Be careful," Sprout told him.  
  
---  
  
Hagrid stepped past fallen posters, over the contents of spilled lockers.  
  
A few uncaged hamsters ran past him.  
  
The lights flickered, like some kind of code.  
  
He paused just before the front doors, just in case she were right there.  
  
"Hagrid-" Sprout yelled.  
  
He started to turn, but Mrs. Riddle had jumped on his back, climbing him, and   
  
as he raised his arms, trying to throw her off, she slashed at his hands with-  
  
-where'd she get that knife? he thought, and then she stabbed him in the back-  
  
-----  
  
-and ripped the knife free, stabbed him again and again and again, and he crashed  
  
against the wall, so that she would let go, but she would not let go-  
  
-----  
  
"Stay away, Sprout," Hagrid yelled, concerned for her safety alone. Screw   
  
safety, Hagrid NEEDED her-  
  
----  
  
and then Hagrid slammed into a glass case that read IN CASE OF FIRE BREAK GLASS.  
  
There was an axe behind the case. He stuck his arms through the already shredded  
  
glass, and pulled out the axe; his arms burned. He could barely hold it, but he   
  
swung it upwards and behind him, knocking the knife away, and on his second swing,  
  
he connected with bone, he could FEEL it-  
  
----  
  
-fire consumed her left arm. She fell off of the giant, staggering away; it  
  
was difficult because there was a fire ax protruding from her shoulder. She staggered  
  
outside, and then saw exactly what she needed.  
  
---  
  
Hagrid stepped through the doorway, outside.  
  
He was not prepared.  
  
He did see the telephone pole rocketing towards him, but all he had time to  
  
do was think "Blimey, she uprooted one of them telephone poles-" and then it sailed  
  
through his stomach and out his back.  
  
"Got you," she said; she was covered in sweat and blood.  
  
Hagrid screamed in pain. He actually screamed. The bitch impaled me on a telephone  
  
pole! he thought. He fought not to black out. By God, he would fight her to his   
  
last breath.  
  
"That has to hurt," she said.  
  
"Eh," Hagrid said. It hurt to laugh; he laughed anyway.  
  
She picked up a severed power line from the ground. It danced in her grasp,  
  
spitting lethal voltage.  
  
"I've heard giants are hard to kill," she said. "Now I know."  
  
"You ain't killed me yet," Hagrid said, through gritted teeth. He could taste blood.  
  
"I think a spot of electrocution will do the trick," she said. Then she put the  
  
line down. "No. Far too quick."  
  
With her good arm, she picked up the axe.   
  
"I think this will do," she said. "You know, Tom got his looks from his father.  
  
I'm proud to say that he got his nasty little homicidal impulse from me..."  
  
  
  
She placed the blade at his neck.  
  
"This is going to be one-handed," she said. "You know, it took the executioner  
  
eighteen blows with the axe before Mary, Queen Of Scots's head came off? I think  
  
I'm about to set some sort of record."   
  
She reared back; Hagrid closed his eyes, and-  
  
---   
  
"Uh...Remus?"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"This statue," Moody said.   
  
----  
  
-Sprout fired.  
  
The arrow struck Mrs. Riddle in the small of her back. She gave a cry of surprise.  
  
But she didn't go down.  
  
----  
  
"What about the statue?"  
  
Moody looked down at Lupin.  
  
----  
  
Sprout fired again. This time, the arrow split Mrs. Riddle's skull.  
  
She turned around and kind of grinned at Sprout.  
  
"Your turn," she said.  
  
----  
  
"God, I can't find Maggie or Marge and Homer's at the plant-"  
  
Dumbledore had no magic potions to calm her down. As if she would under   
  
any circumstances.  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
Marge ran to the door.  
  
----  
  
Sprout reloaded Hagrid's crossbow, and fired again.  
  
The arrow sunk deep into the monster's heart.  
  
Mrs. Riddle's legs gave out. Finally, she fell, dead before she hit the ground.  
  
---  
  
"I need my pills," Grandpa said.  
  
Marge slammed the door.  
  
----  
  
"I'm so sorry, Hagrid," Sprout said.  
  
"I've 'ad worse," Hagrid said.  
  
"We have to get this out of you."  
  
"Yeh think?"  
  
"There's a spell that turns wood into water," she said. "Uh..."  
  
"Yeh don't know it?"  
  
"I know it. Just give me a second."  
  
---  
  
"Would you look at this thing?" Moody said.  
  
"What's wrong with the bloody statue?"  
  
"It's...Remus-"  
  
"Remus, this statue is crying."  
  
Moody showed Lupin his fingers, dripping with tears of blood.  
  
Lupin tried to make sense of it.  
  
He looked towards the power plant.  
  
----  
  
The wood dissolved.   
  
Hagrid was still badly wounded.  
  
"Good shootin', by the way."  
  
He grinned.  
  
Amazingly, he could walk under his own power.  
  
Inside the school, she sat him down in the Principal's office.   
  
"I'm so cold," he said.  
  
She found a blanket and wrapped it around him.  
  
"I'll get help," she said.  
  
She backed into the hallway.  
  
----  
  
For a moment, everything froze.  
  
Then, the sky went white.  
  
Anyone caught outside had their shadows burnt into the ground, or to the sides of   
  
houses and buildings and cars.  
  
----  
  
Ron stared at the mushroom cloud, and the wave of oncoming destruction.  
  
He felt Hermione next to him.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
He turned to her.  
  
She kissed him.  
  
Then she pulled back.  
  
"Blimey," he said.  
  
In spite of everything, they smiled at each other.  
  
He looked back; Armageddon was nearly upon them.  
  
Ron took Hermione's hands.  
  
He kissed her.  
  
Then he sat down in the middle of the street.  
  
She sat beside him.  
  
"It's so beautiful," Hermione said-  
  
It came and went, leaving nothing in its path.  
  
----  
  
The Comic Book Guy stood outside his shop,shaking his fists.   
  
He managed to say "You idiots, this has already been DONE once-" before he was taken.  
  
----  
  
The most ridiculous death belonged to Adrianna Sprout.   
  
When the nuclear reactor went, of course, there was a tremendous nuclear explosion   
  
that flattened a lot of buildings. Springfield Elementary was not one of them. The  
  
only damage it caused was to blow the front doors off their hinges, and Sprout   
  
was in their way.  
  
---  
  
Bart stood by the lake, watching the giant squid.  
  
All of a sudden, he felt hot.  
  
He turned, in time to see Hogwarts disappear into something he always knew he  
  
would see firsthand. Of course, seconds later, it took him too.  
  
---  
  
Harry appeared in the living room, unconscious.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore exclaimed.  
  
---  
  
Harry woke up in darkness.  
  
He knew his eyes were open.  
  
Panicking, he searched with his hands.   
  
"Hello? Please, is someone-"  
  
Everything felt so heavy.  
  
"Harry," said a familiar voice.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, it's me."  
  
"Oh, Professor, I'm blind. I-"  
  
Dumbledore caught his hands.  
  
He realized Dumbledore was holding him. "Sshhh."  
  
Harry quieted down. He might have lost consciousness. It was so hard to tell.  
  
"I killed Voldemort," he said. "But I ruptured the reactor, sir. Was there   
  
an explosion?"  
  
"There was."  
  
"It's my fault," Harry said, and he felt tears coursing down his cheeks. "I  
  
thought of home-"  
  
Dumbledore said nothing.  
  
"Sir...am I burnt?"  
  
"No," Dumbledore said.   
  
---  
  
My beautiful boy,no.   
  
---  
  
"I killed Voldemort, sir. But I blew up the reactor. I blew it up. I've destroyed  
  
the world and killed myself-" He cried out, and had a violent convulsion. Dumbledore  
  
held him steady, even though he felt helpless. Harry was going to die and there was  
  
nothing he could do but make him as comfortable as possible.   
  
---  
  
Wait, what about Fawkes?  
  
---  
  
The radiation would kill him, and then he would be reborn, a helpless chick, and  
  
then the radiation would do him in again and the cycle would repeat for all   
  
eternity, his beloved companion never really living or dying, in a state of constant   
  
rebirth. And Maggie-oh, poor, sweet Maggie. Fawkes had undoubtedly tried to heal  
  
her. There would be no rush of magnificent crimson wings in the window, nothing to  
  
assuage Harry's pain or heal his terrible injuries.  
  
"Where's Homer?"  
  
"Mrs. Simpson?" Harry asked.  
  
"Did you see Homer?"  
  
"Yeah...I'm sorry, Mrs. Simpson...he's dead."  
  
He heard her choke back a sob. Then, he heard her rapid footsteps running from the   
  
room.  
  
"I knew it would happen like this," Harry said. "I don't care, as long as he's dead."  
  
"Harry-"  
  
"What's my life in comparison to the safety of the entire world?"  
  
---  
  
I should have known.  
  
I have to tell him. He has to know.  
  
---  
  
"There are some things you should know."  
  
"Well," Harry said, "Now's a good time."  
  
"I wanted to tell you these things a thousand times-"  
  
"But you couldn't," Harry said, on the edge of dreams. "For my safety, right?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Tell me," Harry said.  
  
---  
  
The short version, he thought, and felt terrible.  
  
---  
  
"It's so hard to think," Harry said.  
  
"Then just listen," Dumbledore said. "You've undoubtedly wondered about all the  
  
money in your vault?"  
  
"Give it to the Weasleys," Harry said, losing consciousness again.  
  
When he woke up, he could hear rain outside. Dumbledore was humming.  
  
"It's raining?"  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "It is."  
  
"What were we talking about?"  
  
"The money in your vault. Annually, more is added. You never noticed...well, because  
  
you don't live for money, Harry. I imagine it embarrassed you at times."  
  
"Yeah...sometimes...how did my parents get it?"  
  
"That money is basically the equivalent of an accumulation of tax returns."  
  
"Taxes on what?"  
  
"Hogwarts."  
  
Harry tried to think about this, but it was so hard.  
  
"What does that mean,sir?"  
  
"That you are the legal owner of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry."  
  
"You're putting me on."  
  
"No," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I don't-"  
  
"You are the last descendant of Godric Gryffindor. As such..."  
  
"I...don't believe it."  
  
"I know you love Hogwarts. It has always felt like home, hasn't it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Now you know why."  
  
Then he cried out, and Dumbledore felt his pain. He rode the wave of agony.  
  
---  
  
It won't be long. I have to TELL him-  
  
---  
  
"Have you ever thought about my name?"  
  
"Albus Percival Wulfric-"  
  
"My first name and last name. Have you ever thought on their meaning?"  
  
"You have a beautiful name."  
  
"Thank you, Harry. It's French. It means "white bumblebee."  
  
"It does?"  
  
"It does. Now, think about that...and think about your mother's name. And your  
  
aunts' names."  
  
"I only have one aunt."  
  
"You have two."  
  
"My...mother's name was...Lily."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"My aunt's name is Petunia."  
  
"Right again."  
  
"Lily...Petunia...white bumblebee."  
  
---  
  
Finally.   
  
---  
  
"You're...my great-grandfather...or something..."  
  
"Yes, Harry. I am."  
  
"But who's my other aunt?"  
  
"Promise you won't be upset."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Narcissa Malfoy."  
  
"She married Lucius Malfoy-"  
  
"-and severed ties with me."  
  
"And that's how she became sisters with Bellatrix Lestrange?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"-and Aunt Petunia married Uncle Vernon-"  
  
-and also severed ties with me."  
  
"But that wasn't enough for him," Harry said. It was getting hard to breathe.  
  
"He forced her to legally divorce herself from me. Not that she needed   
  
encouragement," Dumbledore said, and everything just crashed down. He   
  
couldn't stop the tears from flowing. "And that's why they're your only  
  
relatives now."  
  
"You have always been my grandfather."  
  
-and all at once, he was hugging Harry, rocking him, crying with him.  
  
"You told me...first time you saw me, you told me."  
  
----  
  
you see your family standing around you  
  
----  
  
"I had to," Dumbledore said.  
  
"It's okay," Harry said. "I love you. It's okay."  
  
"You love me?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said. "I love you. But...there's one more question."  
  
"Ask it."  
  
"Who's my grandmother?"  
  
Weight was added to the bed.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Professor McGonagall.  
  
Harry hurt all over, but he still smiled.  
  
"I'm glad it's you," Harry said.   
  
Downstairs, the telephone rang.  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"I suppose I'll get that," she said.  
  
She left.  
  
"I figured something out," Harry said.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"You were always Voldemort's main target. Killing me-"  
  
"-would have killed me," Dumbledore said. "That's what's worse than death.  
  
Living on after the ones you love are gone."  
  
"I know," Harry said. "But I don't have long."  
  
---  
  
This is what Tom WANTED. THIS IS WHAT HE WANTED.  
  
---  
  
"I remember what you said...to the well-organized mind,death is but the next great   
  
adventure. Well...sir, it looks like I'm about to go adventuring-"  
  
----  
  
you're going before ME, it isn't FAIR-  
  
----  
  
"I can see them," he said. "My mother and father and Sirius-"  
  
"They're here?"  
  
"They've been here. They want me to go with them-"  
  
Dumbledore held Harry close. He kissed the boy's burning forhead.  
  
"Please...don't take him. Lily...James! Spare Harry-take ME-"   
  
He reached out to the empty space.  
  
"Take me..."  
  
----  
  
Minerva picked up the phone.  
  
"Who's this?" she asked.  
  
"Professor McGonagall? That you?"  
  
It was Hagrid.  
  
"Hagrid," she said. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Nah," he said. "I'm sittin' here bleedin' ta death...I dialed HELLP MEE into the  
  
phone...just got lucky, I guess. Mrs. Riddle went nuts...she killed   
  
everybody...Skinner's office looks like a killin' floor...She got Mrs. Krabapple,   
  
Skinner, Mr. Largo an' Superintendent Dick an' the Wiggums...she stabbed me a lot and   
  
did a number on me with a telephone pole...Sprout killed her..."  
  
"Is Addie with you?"  
  
"She's dead," Hagrid said. "Is Harry okay?"  
  
She felt an ache in her heart.  
  
"He's dying, Hagrid. Radiation."  
  
"Hell, I'll be seeing 'im soon. Voldemort's dead?"  
  
"Yes. Yes, he is."  
  
Silence on the other end.  
  
"Hagrid?"  
  
"I'm here. M'heart stopped beating for a second, there. Voldemort-"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
"Good. We ain't died in vain, then. I'm gonna go lie down with Sprout, I think."  
  
"All right, Hagrid."  
  
"Minerva?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Remember, I always loved yeh."  
  
"I'll remember, Hagrid. Thank you. You were special to me, as well."  
  
"...strong woman. Yeh gotta be strong."  
  
"I'm trying."  
  
"Good." Another moment of silence. "I'm gonna go now, Professor. G'bye."  
  
"Goodbye, Hagrid."  
  
Then, the dial tone buzzed in her ear.  
  
She put the phone down.  
  
----  
  
Hagrid stared at the phone for a moment.  
  
He looked down; he sure had lost a lot of blood. The carpet was soaked.  
  
He stood up.  
  
His legs felt wobbly, as if they were going numb.   
  
Codswallop. They WERE going numb.  
  
He felt so cold.  
  
There was a blanket draped over Skinner's chair. He took it.  
  
In the hallway, he pulled the doors off of Addie Sprout.   
  
Even after being crushed by the doors, she was still beautiful. The only  
  
woman who had ever loved him.  
  
A warm wind blew through the entrance, speckled with rain.  
  
He laid down beside her, pulled her close, and draped the blanket over them both.  
  
"Comin', Harry," he said, drowsy.  
  
All the lights in the building went out.  
  
In two minutes, Hagrid was unconscious.   
  
In another five, he was dead.  
  
---  
  
"Somewhere someone's SCREAMING that the WORLD'S GONE-"  
  
The music was lost in static.  
  
The television spat bursts of a movie. A muggle actor named Danny Devito   
  
was onscreen. "Things-" SSKKT "-couldn't have-" SKKKT "-gone more wrong than   
  
this, could they?" This was its last message before the signal turned to permanent   
  
electric snow.  
  
Minerva could barely walk up the stairs.  
  
Her heart felt so heavy. Heavier than her feet.  
  
Somehow, she made it upstairs.  
  
She stopped in the doorway.  
  
Albus and Harry were lying on the bed. He was holding the boy.  
  
Minerva bowed her head.  
  
"M-Minerva-"  
  
She looked up.  
  
Albus was alive.  
  
Harry died in his arms, she realized.  
  
"They...they didn't take me."  
  
He collapsed to the floor.  
  
She went to him.  
  
"Minerva," he whispered,"Minerva, everything is lost. We've lost everything-"  
  
As she put her arms around him,rocking him, he buried his face in her breast and   
  
wailed. It was a fitting funereal bell for a dead world.  
  
----  
  
Time to vomit  
  
No thank you, Mr. Burns  
  
-Hatemail,"Lil' Lisa's Animal Slurry." (which belonged to Hatemail) Also,   
  
"Cassie Eats Cockroaches" belonged to Acid Bath. The movie dialogue at the  
  
end is from RUTHLESS PEOPLE.)  
  
DISCLAIMER: This chapter was incredibly gory and upsetting and you probably   
  
shouldn't have read it if you're squeamish or easily upset.* None of these   
  
characters belonged to me except Chillinger. (diabolical laughter)  
  
----  
  
* = ITCHY AND SCRATCHY reference 


	45. zuruckspulen

45.  
  
  
  
zuruckspulen   
  
I was watching my TV one night when they broke in with a special report  
  
About some devastating earthquake in Peru  
  
There were thirty thousand crushed to death, even more were buried alive  
  
On the Richter scale it measured 8.2  
  
And I said, "God, please answer me one question-  
  
Why'd they have to interrupt THE SIMPSONS just for this?"  
  
Weird Al Yankovic, "Why Does This Always Happen To Me"  
  
In the darkest hole  
  
you'd be well advised  
  
not to plan my funeral  
  
'fore the body dies  
  
yeeeeeeaaah  
  
-Alice In Chains, "Grind"  
  
Incidentally, there is now a band called Harry And The Potters. They have a CD   
  
out, with songs like "These Days Are Dark" and "Save Ginny Weasley." Jangly pop  
  
with an edge.  
  
  
  
(Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Rod Serling.)  
  
Once upon a time, there was a town called Springfield. No one was quite sure  
  
about its geographic location; it didn't matter, really. The people who lived in  
  
Springfield were generally happy, even though the town had been voted America's   
  
Worst City. It was THEIR city. In this world, it is represented by a television  
  
show that is beloved worldwide. It has become a cultural institution, and the  
  
characters are familiar enough so that if we could somehow find a way into their   
  
world, we could concievably be more comfortable there than we are on the other  
  
side of the TV screen. Springfield is a part of our collective consciousness.  
  
We hear their voices in our heads. Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa, Maggie, Moe,  
  
Barney...we can identify with all of them. They give us strength for life.  
  
Once upon the aforementioned time, there were wizards and witches in Europe. Some of   
  
them taught their crafts in a school somewhere in Ireland. Witness if you will the   
  
school: a huge, magical castle called Hogwarts. The Headmaster's name was Albus   
  
Dumbledore, and he was considered to be the greatest wizard of the age. His life   
  
could have been written by the Brothers Grimm; he had three grand-daughters, two of   
  
whom were malicious and vain, and one whose sweet nature and strong spirit affected   
  
everyone around her. He also had a great-grandson named Harry whose powers awed him.   
  
In fact, Harry's destiny was to be the greatest wizard of his time. Dumbledore loved   
  
Harry, but then there was a terrible tragedy; through ancient magic, he was   
  
able to protect Harry, even though neither of them were really happy; it was torture,   
  
knowing Harry was being mistreated, while he was basically powerless to do anything   
  
but watch. He consoled himself in the knowledge that he would watch Harry grow up at   
  
Hogwarts,and he would guide the boy; he longed for a time when he could tell Harry   
  
how much he loved him; every opportunity he had, Dumbledore let Harry know how proud   
  
he was,and allowed him to live his own life, and let him discover that he was not the   
  
abnormal freak his adopted family said that he was, but a true wizard from a long  
  
and ancient tradition. Harry considered Hogwarts home; somehow, J.K. Rowling   
  
types every word that comes out of his mouth. That's what writers do-they dictate.   
  
Springfield and Hogwarts are real places, and they have become close to our hearts.  
  
I don't know who said it originally. Maybe it was Mr. Rogers who said it, but  
  
books are like friends. Particularly good books, because when you read them,  
  
it's not hard to imagine the characters as your lifelong friends. It's easy  
  
to come to think of them as real people.  
  
If there is a point to all my rambling, it is simply this:  
  
Places such as these can never really be destroyed.  
  
-----  
  
(thank you so much, Mr. Serling.)  
  
-----  
  
High above the ruins of Earth, Kang stared at the hopelessly irradiated planet.  
  
He turned to his sister Kodos. "Oh shazbut," he said. "They finally did it, Kodos."  
  
Kodos laughed. A moment later, Kang joined in.  
  
He paused to vomit a slimeball.  
  
He whacked it away with a playful swipe of his tentacle.  
  
Kang watched it speed towards the wall.  
  
It didn't get that far.  
  
Unexpectedly, it slowed down, revolving on its axis in midair.   
  
"Did you turn off the gravity?"  
  
"I touched nothing," Kodos said.   
  
As Kang watched, her mouth began moving in reverse.  
  
----  
  
Remus Lupin hadn't fared well in the nuclear holocaust. He had been reduced to  
  
a pile of ashes that swept away in the wind. Alastor Moody had been crushed under the   
  
statue of Hans Sprungfeld, more commonly known as Jebediah Springfield. The plaque   
  
accompanying the statue had not been damaged. It read A NOBLE SPIRIT EMBIGGENS THE   
  
SMALLEST MAN.  
  
A car sat across the street. It had been upended and pretty much crushed in  
  
the explosion. There was a dead woman in the passenger seat-not one of the  
  
regular characters, just a middle-aged woman named Christa Tobler, who would  
  
have been attractive if her skin hadn't melted off. She had been listening to KBBL,   
  
and surprisingly, KBBL was still transmitting. Not very well, of course. What was it   
  
playing?  
  
The SUPERMAN theme.  
  
(daaaah dat duh da daaaa...daa daa daaaaaah...)  
  
Yeah. The theme from SUPERMAN, just beginning,a lone trumpet trilling  
  
against the dark loneliness of the universe. Then, other brass and wind  
  
instruments join in, and as they played...the wind shifted. The trumpets  
  
reached their thrilling crescendo and the rain began falling upwards, and as it did,  
  
the statue of Jebediah Springfield rose into the air and regained its position on  
  
the block. In the distance, the fearsome mushroom cloud began to dissipate, shrinking   
  
in on itself, faster and faster until-  
  
----  
  
-Dumbledore raised his head.   
  
Minerva had slumped into his shoulder. For a moment, he feared she had died.  
  
He noticed several things, however. One, they were joined by a length of   
  
chain; she had thrown it around him, and it kept her from falling to the floor  
  
now.   
  
Secondly, Harry was gone.   
  
There was no sign he had ever been there.  
  
Third:  
  
...birdsong.  
  
There were birds in the tree outside, singing their hearts out.   
  
There was a tree outside.  
  
Two little girls skipped down the sidewalk, chanting a rhyme.  
  
She had done it, somehow. She had brought the world back to life.  
  
That was when he saw what was connecting them, tethering them together as if   
  
they were about to make love for want of a bed. Not quite able to believe it,  
  
he pulled it away and held it in one hand, supporting Minerva with the other.  
  
It looked like a normal egg timer.  
  
But it was so much more.  
  
"A Time-Turner," he whispered.  
  
Carefully, he put it on the bedside table.   
  
Then he lifted Minerva and laid her down on the bed.  
  
In a moment, she opened her eyes, and blinked.  
  
"Albus?" she asked. "Did it work?"  
  
He smiled. "It worked, my dear."  
  
She touched his cheek; he held it there.  
  
Slowly, she sat up,drawing her legs under her so he could sit beside her.  
  
"How long have you had this?"  
  
"Albus, I've had it since Monday."  
  
"You didn't tell me."  
  
"I didn't think I'd have to use it," she said.  
  
"How did you get it?"  
  
She smiled guitily. "I nicked it from Fudge's office. I said I was lucky-"  
  
"Are you sure she isn't inside you?"  
  
"I'm sure. We have three hours to live over."  
  
"But-"  
  
"But nothing, Albus. Let that future pass out of possibility. Tom may be alive   
  
again, but what is that measured against the world?"  
  
"Minerva McGonagall, you Scottish cat-goddess, I could kiss you."  
  
He did just that. It was a while before either one of them pulled away.  
  
She put a hand on his knee, and then reconsidered.  
  
"Considering what we just witnessed-"  
  
"Say no more," he said. "I was thinking the same thing."  
  
He sat back.  
  
"He loves us," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Did you expect anything less?"   
  
"I tried to tell him everything," Dumbledore said. "There...wasn't time. But Minerva,   
  
when I can finally tell him...he'll accept it."  
  
"Of course he will."  
  
Then, from downstairs:  
  
"Mr. Simpson?"  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said. He turned to her. "I-"  
  
She just smiled. "Where were you three hours ago?"  
  
"On the couch downstairs," Dumbledore said. He rose from the bed. "We'll,   
  
er...continue this later."  
  
"Bloody right we will," she said.  
  
"I knew there was a reason I married you," he said.  
  
"I know exactly why I married you," she said.  
  
He bowed to her. Then he hurried out of the room, down the stairs,  
  
walked into the living room and sat down on the couch.  
  
The kitchen door slammed.  
  
"Mr. Simpson?"  
  
He came in from the kitchen.  
  
Harry, oh my Harry, you're alive again-  
  
He stepped closer.   
  
"Sir...why are you crying?"  
  
"I lost something very dear to me, Harry."  
  
He put a hand on Dumbledore's shoulder."Please don't cry, I'll help you look. We'll   
  
find it."  
  
"No need, Harry, I found it. These are joyous tears."  
  
Harry nodded. Then he took a Kleenex out of his pocket and pinched Dumbledore's nose.   
  
"Blow," he said.  
  
Dumbledore did.  
  
Harry looked from Dumbledore to the Kleenex and back again, smiling.  
  
"Now it's magic Kleenex," he said.  
  
Dumbledore felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and in the next moment, laughter  
  
poured out of him; the sound of healing.  
  
"I was going to look for Mr. Simpson," Harry said. "I think I should stay with you.   
  
Are you sure you're all right, sir?"  
  
"Thank you, Harry, I am now. There are some things that need to be done,  
  
however. But they can wait a moment. Have you ever seen the film RUTHLESS PEOPLE?"  
  
"No," Harry said.  
  
"It's an excellent film, and it will be on shortly. Before that, however, I  
  
think I need some fresh air."  
  
"Yeah, I was coming to get you."  
  
Fawkes and Maggie, he thought, but said nothing.  
  
He stood up-  
  
-and then the front door opened. Homer Simpson walked into the living room,  
  
whistling, and just as he passed the television-  
  
"Homer, WAIT!"  
  
Homer nearly hit the ceiling. "What is it?" he asked, trembling.  
  
"You nearly stepped into one of the traps I set."  
  
"I don't see any traps."  
  
"Of course you don't," Dumbledore said. "They're invisible."  
  
Homer slapped his own forehead. "D'OH!"  
  
"They're all over the room. Just a precaution. I'm sorry."  
  
"That's okay," said Homer, who looked like he wanted to scream.  
  
"They are set on a timer," Dumbledore said. "It would be in your best   
  
interests not to move for the next three hours."  
  
"Okay," Homer said. "I'll just watch TV. But I have to take my dad his   
  
medication-"  
  
"I'LL take it."  
  
The three of them turned to see Professor McGonagall standing in the hall.  
  
"Are you quite sure, Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"Quite, Headmaster."  
  
"Really, you don't-"  
  
"I insist."  
  
"In that case, Homer, give her the medication."  
  
"Mind the traps."  
  
"Traps?"  
  
"Professor Dumbledore set invisible traps all over the room," Harry said.  
  
She read the look on Harry's face like an expert.  
  
"Ah,yes. Those infernal invisible traps of his. Well, Mr. Simpson, I expect  
  
you're set for the next few hours or so. Do you have your father's medication?"  
  
Homer dug the bottle out of his pocket and threw them to Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Now don't move, Mr. Simpson. I'm sure you don't want to be turned into a toad, or   
  
suddenly be attacked by pies."  
  
"Mmmm...invisible trap pie..."  
  
"I'll be back shortly," she said.  
  
"Minerva?"  
  
"Yes, Headmaster?"  
  
"Room thirty-four."  
  
She nodded, and left.   
  
"Harry, come with me," said Dumbledore. "Mind the traps."  
  
"I can't see them, Professor."  
  
"That's right, I forgot." He turned to Homer. "You know, sometimes I forget he's   
  
still a student." He turned back to Harry. "I'll lead the way."  
  
He took a giant step forward. Harry did the same, and followed Dumbledore as   
  
he ducked.  
  
"Best place for a giant claw, you know," Dumbledore said, gesturing at the ceiling.  
  
Harry followed him into the kitchen, and out the door, into the backyard.  
  
Between them, their combined attempt at composure lasted about five seconds.  
  
Harry nearly fell over, laughing.  
  
Dumbledore wanted to pick Harry up and swing him through the air.   
  
He resisted the urge.  
  
"Wh-" Harry looked up at him, holding his stomach. "Why'd you do that?"  
  
"I did it for his own good, Harry."  
  
Harry sat down on the bench.  
  
"For his own good?"   
  
"For his own good."  
  
Harry just nodded.  
  
Dumbledore sat next to Harry.  
  
Harry. Then, right on time, Fawkes flew past them, Maggie Simpson in tow.  
  
"Oh, that bird's going to be the death of me," Dumbledore said.  
  
He looked over at Harry, and knew he'd misspoke.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry," he said. "Let me do the worrying."  
  
"I don't mean to make you worry so much," Harry said.   
  
"Could be worse," Dumbledore said. "You could have been an alcoholic. Or a cad.  
  
I could be paying your rehabilitation expenses or for your girlfriend's abortions.  
  
Instead, you have chosen an entirely different path, Harry. There are young people  
  
out there who've given up...I've seen them everywhere I go and it just-" he wiped   
  
at his eyes again. "Any more tissues?"  
  
Harry handed him another tissue; Fawkes chose that moment to land on the table.   
  
"You do care about ME too much," Harry said.  
  
"Not possible," Dumbledore said.   
  
Fawkes climbed onto Dumbledore's shoulder, bobbing his head.   
  
"Arr, matey," he said, and Harry laughed. "Captain McAllister, at yer service."  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
Maggie pulled Harry's ears.   
  
"Professor-"  
  
Professor Dumbledore pulled Maggie off of Harry and sat her on the table.  
  
Harry began to get up.  
  
"Harry, could you sit with me awhile?"  
  
Harry looked back.  
  
"...please."  
  
"Yeah...sure."  
  
He stayed where he was.   
  
"I'll teach you how to play poker," Dumbledore said.  
  
"...Poker?"  
  
"Is something wrong with poker?"  
  
"Um...well. My uncle-"  
  
"Your uncle is a gigantic git. And I've known some of the most gigantic gits   
  
in the history of gitdom."  
  
This time Harry smiled.  
  
"I don't have a-"  
  
Dumbledore reached behind Harry's ear and came away with a full deck of cards.  
  
"You just misplaced them, I'm sure."  
  
----  
  
Minerva McGonagall, her head up and back straight, went directly to the Springfield  
  
Retirement Castle without stopping anywhere. She had been studying the town little  
  
by little each day, and felt that this could be construed as a nice walk outside.  
  
The weather was as overcast as it had been, and she felt quite inconspicous.  
  
She knew that she had come upon the Retirement Castle when the whistling started.  
  
She rolled her eyes. Could any of these men keep up with her? Albus was the only   
  
one who could do that.   
  
She felt nothing on the way across the lawn; she could not imagine what Harry had   
  
felt. For a young man, he had developed a high tolerance for pain, so high he bore   
  
everything without complaint. Even Umbridge's razor quill. She had heard about the   
  
bloody thing, and after Dolores had been driven out of the castle, she had found it,   
  
and tried it out. Fortunately, she had brought Poppy along, and the pain was   
  
temporary, albeit excruciating. That monstrous bitch had used the thing against her  
  
children; that knowledge was more painful than any cut.   
  
The thing was that Harry's hand was not scarred. After all those detentions,  
  
after having his hand slashed open over and over again-  
  
Knock on wood, but she was glad Dolores Umbridge was dead. Those Muggle gangbangers   
  
had filled her with enough lead to make a million pencils.   
  
One of the men met her at the door; he had a beard nearly as long as Albus's and  
  
ovulescent,staring eyes. "Hey, baby, I got two good hips-"   
  
"But can you dance?" she asked.  
  
"Depends on the music," he said.   
  
"I'll be right back," she said. He grinned and got out of her way.  
  
The second she entered the Retirement Castle, she transfigured.  
  
----  
  
"You know, Harry...I never got the chance to tell you-"  
  
"Tell me what?"  
  
"What I thought of your interview. The article, last year. I found it to be   
  
  
  
honest, done for all the right reasons-"  
  
(not to mention that you talked about the graveyard,about being TORTURED, how he hurt   
  
you more than you may ever admit to anybody, even me, but then I KNOW)  
  
"-came off as you do in person, and...well, the staff drank to you. Right in front  
  
of Umbridge."  
  
Harry smiled.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Can I ask a personal question?"  
  
"Fire away."  
  
"Is your brother the barkeep at the Hog's Head?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "He certainly is."  
  
"I knew he looked familiar," Harry said. "I'm figuring things out," he said.  
  
"That's quite a feeling," Dumbledore said.   
  
"What's he doing to those goats?"  
  
"Next Hogsmeade trip, ask him. It's nothing unnatural, don't worry."  
  
"There's...one more thing."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Harry looked down at his cards.  
  
"I shouldn't even have to ask this," he said. "But-"  
  
"Harry, what's wrong?"  
  
"Last year...when Voldemort told you to kill me...would you have done it?"  
  
Harry had seen Dumbledore happy, sad, angry; he was a man who felt things deeply.  
  
He had never seen Dumbledore look truly shocked.  
  
The cards spilled out of his hand.  
  
He opened his mouth to speak; for a moment, he made no sound.  
  
"I had to ask."  
  
"Don't you know what that would have done to me?"  
  
Harry looked at the table. Dumbledore put a hand around his shoulder.  
  
"Harry, doing that would have destroyed me. It would have killed me."  
  
"Is that why he wants to kill me?" Harry asked. "To get to you?"  
  
"That's a large part of it," Dumbledore said.  
  
For a moment, they were silent.  
  
"Would you excuse me a moment?" Harry asked.  
  
"Of course," said Dumbledore.  
  
Harry got up and headed towards the house.  
  
Dumbledore turned.  
  
"Harry," he said.  
  
Harry looked back.  
  
"I just wanted to tell you something," he said. "It's nothing complicated, just  
  
a very simple, honest thought. I just...wanted to tell you that...you do matter."  
  
Harry looked up at him, shifting from one foot to the other.  
  
"I've made my feelings known to you. They are not conditional, and shall never   
  
change. I'll just say again that I'm prouder of you than I can possibly elaborate and   
  
that...I love you. If you aren't comfortable being that close to anyone right now, I   
  
shall not pressure you."   
  
He turned back to the cards. He didn't immediately notice Harry; he had walked  
  
back to the table, reaching out, as if he were uncertain.  
  
"It's all right, Harry," he said.   
  
Slowly, Harry pulled Dumbledore to him, as a traumatized child might cradle a teddy   
  
bear in the dark. Dumbledore held onto him, almost wishing they were not flesh  
  
but stone, or marble.  
  
"I want to," Harry said. "I want to so much-"  
  
"When you're ready," he said. "Not a moment sooner."  
  
"Okay," Harry said.  
  
He let go of Dumbledore.  
  
"Let me show you something," Dumbledore said.  
  
----  
  
Of course, after she transfigured herself, someone cooed "Oh, LOOK, a KITTY," and   
  
picked her up. Whoever it was certainly used a lot of skin unguent; they smelled  
  
like an pharmaceutical company. She knew what was coming next and that's exactly   
  
what she got; countless hands stroking her fur, telling her what a good kitty she   
  
was. "Get your hands off me," came out as a meow.   
  
---  
  
Dumbledore led Harry up the stairs; Harry had never been up here. He didn't   
  
know what to expect. Books, certainly, but-  
  
"Sir, you have an autographed copy of DRACULA?"  
  
"Oh, yes. Feel free to look around. We have plenty of time."  
  
"All these are yours?"  
  
"If you ever want to borrow anything, just ask. No ancient spellbooks here,  
  
just the finest writings I've come across in my life."  
  
"I wouldn't know where to start."  
  
"Well, start with HITCH-HIKER. That's an excellent beginning."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"This is not why we're here. Follow me."  
  
He followed Dumbledore to an ancient-looking door in the wall.  
  
Dumbledore opened it. "Lumos," he said, and his wand lit up the room.  
  
There were hundreds and hundreds of shelves. On these shelves were   
  
stacks and stacks of envelopes. All of them were addressed to him.  
  
It was impossible to see the ceiling.  
  
"This room doesn't literally exist within the castle," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Are all these letters for me?"  
  
"Oh, yes. You got as many as Hedwig and the other owls could handle, but as you   
  
can see...I apologize if-"  
  
"No," Harry said. "I understand why this was necessary."  
  
  
  
"I respected your privacy," Dumbledore said. "I didn't open any of them, although  
  
you can tell some of them have...how can I say this politely, er...candid   
  
photographs in them?"  
  
Harry grinned.  
  
"Remember these are here," Dumbledore said. "Someday, you and I are going to   
  
open each and every one."  
  
----  
  
"Bart?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Hey," Bart said.  
  
"How did you get back here?"  
  
"Professor Trelawney made me a portkey."  
  
"So you've had Divination, then?"  
  
"Yeah. I think she needs a break. She kept mentioning something about "divergence."  
  
She took two cups and when she looked in the first one, she screamed 'We're all going  
  
to die,' and fainted. So I had some time before my next class..."  
  
"Bart," Dumbledore asked, "If you don't mind my asking...what do you do for fun?"  
  
"All sorts of stuff. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Could you keep Harry entertained? I need to...run a few errands."  
  
"Oh. Yeah, sure. I have Defense Against The Dark Arts in a while,though."  
  
Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You have my permission to miss class today."  
  
They caught Harry coming downstairs.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, "There's something I must do-"  
  
"Will you be back?"  
  
"I'll be back, I promise. We'll finish your instruction. In the meantime, Bart  
  
will keep you company."  
  
"First lesson," Bart said. He went over to the phone, picked up the reciever,and  
  
dialed a number. He held the reciever out to the two of them.  
  
"Moe's Tavern," came from the other end.  
  
"Yes," Bart said. "I'm looking for a Mr. Hewage. First name...Ross."  
  
"Ross Hewage," Moe yelled. "Ross Hewage? Hey, you guys, go check the bathroom and  
  
see if you can find Ross Hewage-"  
  
The three of them laughed, especially Dumbledore.  
  
"You little bastard," Moe said. "If I ever find out who you are, I'm gonna tattoo   
  
a picture of your ass on your face so I can kick your butt TWICE." He slammed the   
  
phone down. Harry laughed even harder.   
  
"I can see you're in good hands," Dumbledore said. "Bart, a moment please?"  
  
He and Bart walked into the kitchen.  
  
"Want some beer or something?" Bart asked.   
  
"It's a bit early for me, Bart. Listen, you have Defense Against The Dark Arts  
  
today, but don't go. I need you to take a message to Professor Trelawney. You  
  
have my permission to miss class. Is that clear, Mr. Simpson?"  
  
"Clear as...uh...Clearasil, sir."  
  
"Good," Dumbledore nodded. "Pardon me."  
  
He walked back into the living room.  
  
"I will be back," he told Harry   
  
He Disapparated.  
  
---  
  
Professor McGonagall entered the room. She took in all the beeping machinery,  
  
and then saw Mrs. Riddle in the middle of it all. She was asleep, but her mind  
  
could have been voyaging elsewhere.   
  
She walked to the head of the bed.  
  
Then McGonagall leaned down to Mrs. Riddle's ear.  
  
"Die, you evil old cow," she whispered.  
  
On her way out the door, the beeps turned to an alarming whine.  
  
By the time anyone realized something was wrong, it was too late.  
  
----  
  
In his office, Seymour Skinner suddenly became extremely nauseous. He   
  
fell in front of the wastebasket, and vomited as if he were a slot machine  
  
with which someone had just scored a jackpot.   
  
The door opened. "Move over, Seymour," Edna said, and he handed her the   
  
wastebasket. "Euugh, it's all BLACK-" she said, and he turned away while  
  
she lost her lunch.  
  
Another form filled the doorway. "Skinner," Chalmers yelled, and that was all he   
  
could get out before Edna handed him the wastebasket.  
  
----  
  
Dumbledore knocked on the door of Hagrid's cabin. The door opened,and Addie Sprout   
  
stuck her head out. Her shoulders were bare. She saw Dumbledore, and looked   
  
horrified. "Headmaster...I-"  
  
"Would you and Hagrid join me outside,please?"  
  
She smiled, and then closed the door.  
  
He waited by the jungle gym, humming to himself. An airplane went by. He watched  
  
it until it disappeared.   
  
Finally the door opened. It turned out to be Hagrid, holding the door for Sprout.  
  
"Is there trouble, sir?"   
  
"I need your assistance."   
  
"What d'ye need,sir? Jus' name the job, and me and Addie'll get on it."  
  
He bent down and plucked a blade of grass. "Take this portkey to the Simpson home.  
  
Homer Simpson will be in the living room. Ask him about boss, Mr. Burns-most   
  
importantly, where he lives. Then go to wherever that is and prevent him from   
  
leaving."  
  
"This should be interesting," Sprout said.  
  
Hagrid took the portkey. "Got yeh, sir," he said, grinning.  
  
"I knew I could count on you, Hagrid."  
  
Sprout and Hagrid disappeared together.  
  
------  
  
There was only one thing left to do, and he didn't know if he could do it. At  
  
least not by himself.  
  
"I have never in my life laid a hand on a child, but-"  
  
"That's why I'm going," Alastor said. "To make sure ya don't. Right?"  
  
"Very astute, Watson."  
  
"I thought I was Sherlock Holmes and you were Watson."  
  
"I've always been Holmes, Alastor."  
  
"Is Tom Moriarity, then?"  
  
"Tom is hardly Professor Moriarity material."  
  
"If ya say so," he said. "Who are we shakin' down?"  
  
"Harry's cousin."  
  
"Oh, my fat little friend Dudley?"  
  
"The same. I have learned that he burned Harry with a cigar."  
  
"That little berk, I'll KILL him."  
  
"No," Dumbledore said, "That's exactly what we must avoid. He may be...quite  
  
disturbed. I paid a visit-" He thought a moment. No, not now, he hadn't. "Let's  
  
just steel ourselves."  
  
"No matter how much we'd like to permanently incapacitate him," Moody said. "Why  
  
doesn't Potter ever talk about the shit these people hurl at him?"  
  
"Because he's afraid his complaints would just be dismissed as the whining of a   
  
celebrity, Alastor. You know how he hates being famous."   
  
"Yeah, yeah," Moody said. "Maybe he doesn't remember some things."  
  
"I wouldn't doubt it," Dumbledore said. "I'd like to get back soon. There's a film I   
  
happen to like that will be on soon, and I'd like to watch it with Harry. RUTHLESS   
  
PEOPLE." He smirked. "I'm sure you've seen it."  
  
"Last movie I saw was DEBBIE DOES THE DISHES."  
  
"Yes...well..."  
  
------  
  
Hagrid found Harry outside, along with Hermione and Ron.  
  
"Hi, Hagrid," Harry said. "Bart's getting a rocket. Want to see it?"  
  
"Just a second. I'm on a mission for Dumbledore...is he teaching you  
  
how ta play poker?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said.   
  
"'S a man's game."  
  
"It is, isn't it?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes at Ron.  
  
"Just get a chess set out here," Ron said.  
  
"No question 'bout it," Hagrid said. "Yeh're becomin' quite the man, Harry."  
  
Harry smiled. "I'm just glad I've lived this long."  
  
Hagrid didn't know what to say.  
  
"People are basically decent, aren't they, Hagrid?"  
  
"A lot of 'em are," Hagrid said. "All my friends are." He smiled. "Most of 'em,  
  
anyway." He looked at the three of them. "That's the one o' the best thing 'bout   
  
friends. They care enough ta keep yeh honest."  
  
He looked away.  
  
"Hagrid?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I'm a bit homesick," Hagrid said. "But yeh know what? I've been here since   
  
Sunday evening an'...nobody's stared at me. Yeah, the kids did when Skinner  
  
introduced me, but that's different, yeh know. Kids stare out of wonder. When   
  
you firs' saw me, how did yeh feel?"  
  
"I felt like you'd understand me," Harry said. "I mean...you're the first one who was   
  
ever nice to me."  
  
Through all the mud, they'd remained friends. Closer than that, even. For the  
  
umpteenth time, Hagrid looked upon Harry as a proud father would at a son.  
  
"Yeah, well," he said. "I-"  
  
"Hagrid, there you are," Sprout said, coming through the back door.  
  
"Did yeh find out where Burns lives?"  
  
"I certainly did," she said. "Afternoon, Harry."  
  
"Good afternoon, Professor Sprout."  
  
"The Headmaster's teaching you how to play poker, I gather?"  
  
Harry blushed. "Yeah."  
  
"Don't be embarrassed. S'a valuable lesson."  
  
----  
  
Skinner stumbled out of the office.  
  
There was someone standing in the hallway.  
  
"You," Skinner said.  
  
"Me?" Fudge asked.  
  
Time bucked like an angry stallion.  
  
Skinner stumbled out of his office.  
  
There was someone standing in the hallway.  
  
"You," Skinner said.  
  
"Me?" Fudge asked.  
  
Time hiccupped.  
  
Skinner stumbled out of his office.  
  
----  
  
Once again, Privet Drive.   
  
Of course, the two of them were invisible.  
  
"I hate this place in the daylight," Moody said.   
  
A truck blasting The Darkness's "Get Your Hands Off My Woman" turned into  
  
Privet from Wisteria Walk.  
  
"Is that Tiny Tim?" Moody asked.  
  
Dumbledore laughed.  
  
"No, it's a group called The Darkness, Alastor. I've heard some of the students   
  
playing their music. I do pay attention to their likes and dislikes, you know."  
  
"Yeah, of course ya do." He grinned. "What's Potter's favorite band?"  
  
"He's at an age where he's still deciding, Alastor. Though I once observed him  
  
tapping his quill to a song by a band called White Zombie. 'Super-Charger Heaven' I   
  
believe it was called."  
  
There were owls everywhere. Moody fed a barred owl he passed on the lamppost.  
  
In moments, they stood in front of The House.   
  
"You ever wonder what they'll do to this place once Harry gets out of here?" Moody   
  
asked.  
  
"I think on matters concerning Harry constantly," Dumbledore said.  
  
"They'll wanna burn this place to the ground and purify the negative energies."  
  
The two of them stood in front of the door.   
  
"They're home, I suppose," Moody said.  
  
"Oh, they're home," Dumbledore said.  
  
He knocked on the door.  
  
A very long moment later, Vernon Dursley opened the door.  
  
If looks could have killed, Vernon would have been melted into a puddle of   
  
protoplasmic ooze right there. Dumbledore usually tried to find the good in people,  
  
and didn't usually give up. Dolores Umbridge was one such failure, and Vernon   
  
Dursley was another. Vernon was well past due for a heart attack. Dumbledore had   
  
never had a heart attack, but supposed they were terrifying as an experience.   
  
"VERNON, DEAR, WOULD YOU GET THE DOOOOOOOOR?"  
  
"LET DUDLEY GET IT, DEAR-"  
  
"Christ," Moody said.  
  
"DUDDYKIIIIINS...DUDLEY, DARLING, where AAAAAAAARE youuuu..."  
  
"I'LL GET THE RUDDY THING MYSELF!" Vernon screamed.  
  
"It's like Monty Python without the jokes," Moody said. "These people are the   
  
living embodiment of The Most Awful Family In Britain sketch."   
  
The front door swung open. Vernon Dursley peered outside. He grumbled, and  
  
stepped outside onto the walk. The wizards made their way inside.  
  
"Where is he?" Moody asked.  
  
"Well, not long from now, he'll be in his room."  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Don't ask."  
  
"Ah," Moody said. "Yeah, wouldn't want to interrupt him, jerkin' off. We'd both  
  
go blind."  
  
"Shhh..."  
  
Dumbledore walked past the cupboard under the stairs again. Moody barely managed it.  
  
"Speaking of psychic cleansing," Moody said.   
  
He was all right when he entered the kitchen.  
  
Dumbledore, at the window, said "He's not in the garage."  
  
"The garage?"  
  
"He and his friends have a band. Jack and The Rippers."  
  
"Attila and The Huns," Moody said.   
  
They stepped out of the kitchen.  
  
"Vlad and The Impalers," he said, passing the stairs.  
  
As they ascended the stairs: "Joan and The Arcs."  
  
"Joan OF The Arcs," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Yeah," Moody said.   
  
They came to Dudley's room.  
  
"Look, if he's in there, pecker in hand, I reserve the right to gouge my eyes out."  
  
"Alohomora," Dumbledore said.  
  
The door opened.  
  
The room was empty.  
  
However, it was much messier than it had been. Dudley obviously had yet to clean up.  
  
Dumbledore knew Dudley wouldn't have cleaned up unless he absolutely had to do so.  
  
"Where could he be?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Lay down a Silencing Charm, would you?" Moody asked.  
  
Dumbledore waved his wand. "Silencio," he said.  
  
There was a scrapbook sitting on Dudley's bed.  
  
Dumbledore sat down next to it.  
  
Neither of them wanted to open it.  
  
Of course, Dumbledore did.  
  
The first page had almost nothing on it.  
  
It simply read...#1.  
  
"First one," Moody said.  
  
Dumbledore turned the page.  
  
Both men sucked in breaths of air.  
  
There was a newspaper headline glued to the page.  
  
NEIGHBORHOOD CHILD FOUND DEAD AFTER WEEK-LONG SEARCH.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat, and began to read.  
  
"The body of seven-year-old Brian Dorsey was found in a drainage ditch, after a week-  
  
long effort by search and rescue workers to find him. He went missing on Monday,   
  
September twenty-first. The boy apparently fell in the ditch and drowned."  
  
The next page held several Polaroids of Brian Dorsey. Before and,well...after.   
  
The last one was a photo of his killers posing with the corpse, holding him up  
  
by the shoulders as if he were part of their gang.  
  
One of the boys in the picture was Dudley Dursley.  
  
"This is Dudley," Dumbledore said. "And these are his friends. Piers, Malcolm, and-"   
  
"-and they killed this kid."  
  
"I had this investigated," Dumbledore said. "My contacts assured me it was   
  
far away from Harry, that he was in no danger-"  
  
Dumbledore turned the page.  
  
There was a piece of paper glued to the page.  
  
#2.  
  
He turned the page.   
  
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?   
  
There was a picture of an old man; the poster described him as having Alzheimer's  
  
Disease. There was no newspaper article.   
  
"They never found him," Moody said.  
  
There were pictures, though.  
  
They had done strange things to his face and one of his eyes, so that-  
  
"He looks like me," Moody said. "Dammit, they made him look like ME."  
  
Dumbledore turned the page.  
  
#3.  
  
Dumbledore turned the page again.  
  
There was a picture of a goldfish, lying amidst a sea of asphalt.  
  
"They killed a goldfish?" Moody asked.  
  
"They killed someone's beloved pet," Dumbledore said.  
  
"First one's an accident, then a disappearance, then a goldfish, and #4-"  
  
"Why didn't I see this?" Dumbledore asked.   
  
"I never figured Dudley for a murderer, myself," Moody said.   
  
Dumbledore felt ill.  
  
He remembered-   
  
"The fourth victim was a little girl," Dumbledore said.  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"I read the newspapers," Dumbledore said. "Last summer, a little girl went missing-"  
  
"Was it anywhere near Harry?"  
  
"Nowhere near Little Whinging. Alastor, she was found a field and the things that  
  
had been done to her-"  
  
"You gotta turn the page," Moody said, gritting his teeth.  
  
Perhaps it was to punish himself that he turned the page; more likely, it was  
  
the need to know that drove him. He turned the page, and the pictures of the little  
  
girl and what they had done made both men cry out, and the book dropped to the   
  
floor.  
  
The one place Harry was absolutely safe was not safe at all.  
  
"It's not your fault, Albus."  
  
"I can't believe it," Dumbledore said. Then he picked up the book again and turned  
  
to the next page.   
  
#5.  
  
The next page was a picture of Harry.  
  
The picture had been taken with ordinary film; Harry did not move. In fact, he   
  
was not conscious. Harry was asleep in bed, and to get the angle, Dudley would have  
  
had to have been standing over him.  
  
Or straddling him.  
  
Dumbledore let the book fall away.  
  
It hit the floor.  
  
The door burst open.  
  
Dudley Dursley stared at the two men.  
  
"Here,what's-"  
  
(four arms appear in the camera frame and drag Dudley offscreen.)  
  
----  
  
Skinner stumbled out of his office.  
  
There was someone standing in the-  
  
----  
  
"HELLLLLP!" Dudley screamed "SOMEBODY HELP ME-"  
  
"Oh the green hills o' Somerset go rolling to the sho-oore..." Dumbledore sang,  
  
as loud as he could.  
  
Dudley stopped yelling and stared at him.  
  
"There's no point in yelling, boy. There's a Silencing Charm on this room. No one  
  
can hear you."  
  
"What the fuck do you want?"  
  
"Really, Dudley, I certainly hope you don't use that language in  
  
front of your mother."  
  
"Don't fuckin' tell me how to talk, you old bastard."  
  
"If that's the only way you can communicate, I'm perfectly capable of lacing  
  
my vocabulary with enough profanity to suit your needs." He paused for a moment,  
  
looking at Dudley over the tops of his eyeglasses. "I can even do it in a foreign   
  
language, if you prefer. Sometimes it amazes me, how many languages I know-"  
  
"You have not heard profanity until you've heard him swear in Mermish," Moody said.  
  
"Look, who are you and what the bloody hell do you want?"  
  
"Dudley, you know that great-grandfather that your mother always tells you   
  
fell off a cliff and lives in somewhere in America, being fed through a tube in his   
  
throat? Well, it turns out that that's me."  
  
"So you never had an accident," he said. "You're just...one of THOSE people?"  
  
"What kind of people would those be, Duds?"   
  
"A freak," he said. "Like Harry."  
  
"There's some of me in you," Dumbledore said.  
  
"No," Dudley said.  
  
"Oh, yes," Dumbledore smiled. "Someday, you might be able to do something with it,  
  
Dudley. Maybe you'll blow a clock off a wall by looking at it, or dream about some  
  
terrible event halfway across the world." He picked up the scrapbook and threw it at   
  
Dudley.   
  
"We know what you've been doing, Dudley. I've watched Harry very closely over  
  
the years, and as a result, I know a great deal about you. I know you and your  
  
friends made Harry's life a living Hell when he lives here. I know about the cigar   
  
burn. I know you terrorized him." Dumbledore said.   
  
Dudley paled.  
  
"Ah, you thought you were alone? No, my boy. I was right there watching, unable  
  
to intervene. Am I frightening you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes...WHAT?"  
  
"Yes what...what?"  
  
"Yes...SIR."  
  
"Y-yes, sir, you're scaring the shit out of-"  
  
"I HAVEN'T EVEN BEGUN!"   
  
He yelled it so suddenly, even Moody jumped.  
  
"I'll warn you just once, Dudley. Cooperate with us...or I'll be very...very...scary.  
  
I can be very...very...scary when I choose to be. Have you got that?"  
  
"Loud and clear."  
  
"Loud and clear WHAT?"  
  
Dudley jumped. "Loud and clear S-sir."  
  
"Why are you and your friends murdering people?"  
  
Dudley thought about it.   
  
Finally, he shrugged.  
  
"Dunno," he said. "We're bored."  
  
"Bored?"  
  
"We've beaten them all up," he said. "Something new, you know?"  
  
"And Harry is number five." Dumbledore said.  
  
"And that fucking owl," Dudley said. "I got scared, the year before." He pointed at   
  
Moody. "Him and a bunch of others met us at the station and told us not to fuck with   
  
Harry."  
  
"Who do you suppose authorized that?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Dudley looked at him for a moment.  
  
"You?"  
  
Dumbledore put his hands together and clapped.  
  
When he finished, he studied Dudley over the tops of his fingers.  
  
Here it comes, Moody thought.  
  
"Do you know what night terrors are, Dudley?"   
  
"No," Dudley said. "What-"  
  
"Harry was kept under the stairs for quite some time, wasn't he? Years?"  
  
"Years. Yeah."  
  
"I was there, that night. He cried and cried and screamed...not because he was   
  
afraid...you see, it's terrible when we first realize the darkness. I was on the  
  
other side of the door, and I could not interfere. Your father's reaction was to open   
  
the vent and yell SHUT UP. He's probably blocked it out of his conscious memory.   
  
But that's all right, because he has so many people who want to help him."  
  
"What's that got to do with me?"  
  
"How would you like to feel the way Harry did that night, all the time? Not just at   
  
night, but in the daylight? Like there are spiders spinning webs inches away from   
  
your face, as if there's no light anymore, as if there's only darkness that the   
  
strongest sunlight cannot blot out?"  
  
"I,uh...wouldn't like that."  
  
Dumbledore leaned close to Dudley's face.  
  
"Well, I can make it happen," he said.  
  
He pointed his wand at Dudley.  
  
"Obliviate," he said.   
  
A beam of light sent Dudley to the floor, where he began snoring.  
  
"You enjoyed that," Moody said.  
  
"Not as much as this," Dumbledore said. He produced the letter from his robes and  
  
showed it to Moody.  
  
Moody read it. While he read it, he laughed himself silly.   
  
They left it on Dudley's dresser.  
  
---  
  
"Fudge, what are you doing here?"  
  
Cornelius Fudge blinked.  
  
"Albus, thank Merlin, listen-"  
  
The door to the Principal's Office opened.  
  
"You," Skinner said. "What's your name?"  
  
"Albus-"  
  
"No, Seymour. Stop. Please." He said this as if he were reciting the alphabet.  
  
"What's your name?" Skinner asked again.  
  
"Cornelius Oswald-"  
  
"Lee HARVEY Oswald," Skinner yelled, not caring if he made sense.  
  
He charged Fudge, and suddenly the hallway was full of people,  
  
aurors, most of whom Dumbledore recognized.   
  
"We tried to HELP you-" Fudge screamed, trying not to get hit by Skinner's punches.  
  
A flurry of hands pulled him away from Fudge, and by that time, Mrs. Krabappel and   
  
Superintendant Chalmers had emerged from th office.  
  
"Fudge," Dumbledore said, "What in the world is going on?"  
  
"The Ministry was invaded, Albus. These people were possessed-  
  
"-simple operation-" Dawlish was saying.  
  
"-Weasley running around like-"  
  
"Weasley," Dumbledore said. "Is Arthur all right?"  
  
"Not Arthur," Fudge said. "Percy."  
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared beside Dumbledore. "Percy Weasley was running around   
  
the Ministry zapping people, Albus. He was like that muggle in that movie...I can't   
  
remember the title,but it's about a lone man battling ruthless terrorists in a-"  
  
"Oh,you mean DIE HARD," Dumbledore said.   
  
"Exactly, it was just like DIE HARD."  
  
(that's why no one could get through, Dumbledore thought. Percy shut everything   
  
down and stunned everybody affected by Tom's mother.) Dumbledore couldn't help but   
  
smile.  
  
"Where is Percy?"  
  
"I don't know," Shacklebolt said.  
  
"He's out here," someone yelled, and Dumbledore found himself in a stampede towards  
  
the front doors. Two aurors were carrying him, his arms slung over their shoulders.  
  
His feet were dragging across the hallway and his glasses were broken.   
  
----  
  
Percy woke up in a bed so big, he figured it was Hagrid's.  
  
He groaned.  
  
"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?"  
  
Headmaster Dumbledore smiled down at him.  
  
"Hello, Percy," he said. "Thirsty?"  
  
"I'm not worthy to accept water from you," Percy said.   
  
"Nonsense," Dumbledore said, tilting the glass to Percy's lips. "I daresay you owe   
  
your parents an apology," he said. "But not me."  
  
"Do you think they'll even listen?" Percy asked.  
  
"Percy, your parents are dear friends of mine. They're both wonderful, loving people,  
  
and I can honestly say that I believe they will."  
  
"I got so caught up in everything," Percy said.   
  
"The thirst for power makes fools of us all, Percy. But you were not Head Boy for   
  
nothing. You had everyone's confidence.  
  
"Yeah, except my brothers."  
  
"They love you too. Especially Ron. Ron needs a brother."  
  
"He's got Harry."  
  
"Don't begrudge Harry that, Percy. Please."  
  
"I s'pose you're right."  
  
"Of course I'm right." He smiled. "You should get some rest."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Is Skinner kicking Fudge's arse?"  
  
"He was doing his damndest, last I saw him."  
  
"Slap some sense into Fudge, won't you?"  
  
"The way I feel, I just might. Hagrid will be along shortly. I'll see you later."  
  
"See you," Percy said.  
  
Dumbledore left.  
  
Percy stared at the ceiling.   
  
---  
  
When he arrived back at the Simpson house, he discovered that Minerva had come back.  
  
The children-Harry, Hermione, Ron, Bart and Lisa-were gathered around her, laughing  
  
as she read from THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY. "You half-crazed Visigoths-"  
  
she read, and then she noticed him. "Headmaster, hello."  
  
"I trust you were successful?" He asked.  
  
"Yes," she said, and he understood the look in her eyes. "It's done."  
  
"So it is. May I join you?"  
  
"We were just leaving, actually," Ron said. "Hermione wants to go to the   
  
Knowledgeum."  
  
"Oh," Lisa said,"Can I come?"  
  
"Yeah, c'mon." The three of them left.  
  
"I have to get back,too," Bart said,"Can I have a portkey?"  
  
Dumbledore handed him a lemon drop. Was it the one he had given Harry in that  
  
other future? He knew thinking about it would just give him a bad headache, so  
  
he let the thought pass.  
  
Bart took the candy. A moment later, he disappeared.  
  
Dumbledore sat down. Now Harry was sandwiched between them.  
  
He found her hand.   
  
Anyone who could have seen them would have had the right impression; two devoted  
  
senior citizens spending time with their beloved grandson. Or great-grandson.  
  
For awhile, they just sat in silence.  
  
Finally, Harry said, "What happened to Dolores Umbridge?"  
  
"She's dead, Harry."   
  
"She's dead? How did she die?"  
  
"You know, there were parents who wanted her head."  
  
"I wanted her head," McGonagall said.  
  
"Some of the students have permanent scars on their hands from that damnable quill."   
  
He looked down at Harry's smooth, unscarred hands. "I went to America to...look into   
  
some things...over the summer. Well, little did I know that she found a teaching   
  
job."  
  
"Who would hire HER?" Harry asked.  
  
"We happened to have commissioned the same transportation...I kept my distance  
  
from her, but she insisted on telling me all the things she did. She told me about  
  
sending the Dementors after you and all sorts of other things. She was hired as a   
  
subsitute teacher in Cleveland, Ohio. And it drove her completely insane."  
  
("HAND, Mr. Sallee!")  
  
("I don't think I can manage a hand. All I can give you is one finger.")  
  
"Her neighbors burned her house to the ground."  
  
"Why did they do that?"  
  
"Somehow, she ended up on a list of registered child molestors."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Nobody knows. Basically, the kids in her class made her life a living Hell. They  
  
took over. They forced her to write with that quill."  
  
"Good," Harry said. "What did she have to write?"  
  
"She didn't write anything intelligible. They made her use her tongue."  
  
Harry didn't say anything for a moment.  
  
"I know it's terrible," he said. "But I'm glad she's dead. After what she did to   
  
Hedwig-"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I,too,was outraged after she told me what she did to Hedwig. She  
  
was quite proud of herself."  
  
"Let's not even think of her," Minerva said.  
  
"I quite agree," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "Are either of you hungry? I could make us some lunch."  
  
"I think we should make you lunch," Dumbledore said.  
  
"We could make lunch together," Harry said.  
  
"After the film," Dumbledore said.  
  
"The film?"  
  
"RUTHLESS PEOPLE, remember?"   
  
"Is it three o'clock?"  
  
"Almost," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I hope Homer's all right."  
  
"I forgot about him," Minerva said.  
  
Dumbledore closed his eyes...and took a deep breath.  
  
"You owe me a game of poker," he told Harry.  
  
"Later," Harry said. He gathered the cards up-  
  
"Ah-" he gasped.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It's nothing," Harry said, his finger bleeding. "Paper cut."  
  
---  
  
"Hey, Draco."  
  
Draco looked around.  
  
"Simpson?"  
  
"The stairs changed on me, and I can't find the way to Trelawney's. Could you   
  
help me?"  
  
"We'll talk later," Chillinger said.  
  
-----  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"I'll get it, sir," Smithers said.  
  
"Of course you will," said Mr. Burns. "Whoever it is, release the hounds on them."  
  
Smithers opened the door. A plump, crusty woman with messy hair stood on the other   
  
side. "You must be Mr. Smithers," she said. She offered her hand, which was   
  
dirty. "Professor Adrianna Sprout."  
  
"May I help you?...Professor?"  
  
"You certainly may," she said.  
  
"What exactly are you a professor of?"  
  
"Well, let me see...I have a list of credentials a mile long," She grinned. Her  
  
teeth weren't the greatest, but she was far away from THE BIG BOOK OF BRITISH SMILES.  
  
"My main field is herbology, although I'm also a competent entomologist and hold   
  
degrees from-"   
  
"Never mind. What do you want?"  
  
"My partner and I are here to ensure you and Mr. Burns do not leave this property,  
  
at least for awhile. I've got a volume of THE COMPLETE WORKS of e. e. cummings  
  
and-"   
  
"Smithers," Burns called "Have the hounds been released?"  
  
"About your hounds," Sprout said. "My partner's probably found them by now..."  
  
---  
  
"Good doggie," Hagrid laughed, as the hounds licked his cheeks. 


	46. Chillinger

46.  
  
CHILLINGER  
  
(Flashback. First day.)  
  
"-joining the staff of Hogwarts this year, please give a warm welcome to our   
  
new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, professor Ishmael Chillinger."   
  
Everyone looked around, expecting to see Chillinger somewhere, and then the   
  
doors of the Great Hall burst open and a man dashed inside, slamming the doors   
  
behind him. He was a large, broad-shouldered man with a mushroom of thick brown   
  
hair and bright blue eyes. He looked absolutely terrified. He took in everyone in  
  
the hall and turned around to leave. "Let me OUT-" he screamed, and then the doors  
  
opened and another man who looked exactly like him took him by the arm and dragged  
  
him down to the front. "Dreadfully sorry," he said, "There was a bit of an accident  
  
on the way here, and-"  
  
"Are you all right, Professor?" Dumbledore asked, trying to remain serious.  
  
"Oh, yes...a few bruises. I won't be haunting the infirmary. I-"   
  
He looked back towards the door. "Are you coming?"  
  
Number Three came into the Great Hall, and by that time, the kids were abuzz.  
  
So were a few of the teachers. "I don't know about this," number Three said.  
  
He joined the teachers at the table. Introductions were made: he'd met Dumbledore,  
  
McGonagall and Snape. Hagrid looked like a cross between an extra-large Muppet and   
  
that Muggle wrestler, Hillbilly Jim. Sprout's fingers were smudged with dirt.   
  
Sinistra reminded him of Diana Rigg. Binns was a ghost. Vector did mental arithmatic   
  
all through their handshake. He almost kicked Flitwick before he actually saw him.   
  
Without asking anyone, he located Harry Potter. All he had to do was watch   
  
Dumbledore. There Harry was, eating quietly-  
  
(NOW)  
  
Harry Potter. He pretended not to know that name in The Leaky Cauldron, and they  
  
had stared at him, unwilling to believe. Tom-delightful fellow, a pity he was on  
  
the summer break death list-had given the three of them a room; there was a sign   
  
outside that read HARRY POTTER SLEPT HERE. The room itself was small, but   
  
comfortable, just enough for his needs. He spent his time trying to extract  
  
the essence of Harry Potter from the air. He could feel it, and took it in with  
  
every breath. It was powerful, like really great whiskey.  
  
He studied himself in the mirror; Two and Three, Superego and Id, were   
  
resting. This was as close to his former oneness as he could possibly be.   
  
For a moment, he thought that he might be gaining weight, which was unacceptable.  
  
He needed to remain as fit as possible. A haggard Ishmael Chillinger would not  
  
be charming. He wondered why they'd ever hired him; at times, the other two   
  
could be so unmanageable.  
  
(THEN)  
  
Knockturn Alley was his kind of place.  
  
Once he had the correct look, no one paid any attention to him. He purchased  
  
the blackest robes he could find, black boots with black laces, going so far as  
  
to dye his hair and eyebrows black and put black contact lenses in his eyes. Charles  
  
Manson eyes. Rubeus Hagrid had the same eyes, except there was no malevolence in   
  
them.   
  
Dark people shuffled down Knockturn Alley; he made his way around an old crone  
  
reading a book called SLUG BREAD AND BEHEADED THISTLES. He shouldered past a pair  
  
of shifty-looking warlocks. "Hey," one of them said.  
  
He turned. "Yes?"  
  
They were identical twins, both tall, pale and flat-faced.   
  
"New around here, aint yeh?"  
  
"What's it to you?"  
  
"We're havin' a sale, over at Kvelduv Brothers Clearance."  
  
"Not a going out of business sale, I hope."  
  
"Everything's a galleon. Today only. We've got it all, if you don't see it,  
  
just ask. Hands of glory by the dozen, grimoires bound in the cursed flesh of  
  
their own authors, ancient amulets, demon resurrection rites, and cappucino in the   
  
back. Balloons for the kids."  
  
"I'll stop by," he lied.  
  
----  
  
(Now)  
  
He thought about opening the trunk.  
  
"No," he said.   
  
Ronan could eat one of his own legs if he were hungry.  
  
---  
  
(Then)  
  
"This is your room?"   
  
So handsome, she had said.  
  
"It sure is," he said.  
  
There wasn't much conversation.  
  
---  
  
(Now)  
  
He couldn't remember how he'd done it.  
  
He remembered his hands played a big part.  
  
The fact was he'd killed a hooker-  
  
(are you sure she was a prostitute? She never even ASKED for money)  
  
-in the same room where Harry Potter had once stayed.  
  
He wondered if Potter had felt it, somehow. Felt that another part of his life  
  
had been made unclean.  
  
(Then)  
  
He watched Harry Potter talk to the clerk.   
  
Harry was only alone a moment.  
  
A woman with fiery red hair joined him.  
  
She could only be Molly Weasley.  
  
She presented him with a book.  
  
Then she hugged him for a long time.  
  
He realized that she had to die.  
  
(Now)   
  
DIARY ENTRY 400  
  
My goal is to turn Harry Potter into a killer. More on that later. Dark Arts   
  
classes are going well. My best student is Harry Potter. I expected that. He's got   
  
quite a future ahead of him, if only he can learn to appreciate death. To paraphrase   
  
a muggle named Gordon Gekko, who was talking about greed...death is GOOD. Death is   
  
RIGHT.   
  
He closed the diary.  
  
Then he opened it again and wrote:  
  
Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry Potter.Harry P  
  
There was a knock on the door.  
  
"Come in,"   
  
The door opened, revealing Willy.  
  
"Ya got anything that needs throwin' away?"  
  
"Oh...well, Willy, the thing is we don't throw things away. We just make trash  
  
disappear."  
  
Willy looked surprised.  
  
"All right," he said. "That's one less job, I guess."  
  
He slammed the door. 


	47. Bread

47.  
  
BREAD  
  
There was a loaf of bread in the oven, and Dumbledore had been kneading the  
  
dough for the next one. He looked over at Harry, and it occurred to him that Harry  
  
had grown. It felt like yesterday, the first time he had entered Hogwarts, so young  
  
and uncertain. All he had to do was turn, and look into those powerful eyes. He was  
  
no longer a child, but in a sense he would always be so.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore asked, "A personal question, if I may?"  
  
"Sure," Harry said, watching Dumbledore's hands. They were   
  
so white, kneading the dough. Again, he was amazed how such  
  
an old man could possess so much energy.  
  
"How many times have you seen me...intoxicated?"  
  
"Just once," Harry said.  
  
"Did I behave like a fool?"  
  
"No," Harry said. "I remember, your face got really red. But you didn't run around  
  
with a lampshade over your head or anything."  
  
Dumbledore grinned.  
  
"What about me?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"Hagrid kissed you on the cheek."  
  
She smiled. Then she took a sip of water.  
  
"I've seen worse," Harry said. "Dudley and his friends get loaded  
  
every Saturday. He hit this girl-"   
  
At the mention of Dudley-  
  
"Did I say something?"  
  
"No, no, Harry." Suddenly, Dumbledore looked tired. "It's not something you did."  
  
"There's something you need to know," McGonagall said. "About Dudley-"  
  
"What about Dudley?"  
  
"Harry, he and his friends...well, as a way to alleviate boredom, they've resorted  
  
to murder."  
  
Harry almost wished this news was surprising. In a way, it was.   
  
"But...Dudley and his friends aren't smart enough to get away with murder."  
  
"Be that as it may, Harry, they have."  
  
"Who have they killed?"  
  
"They've killed two children, an elderly man and someone's goldfish."  
  
"A goldfish?"  
  
A small laugh escaped Harry, and he quickly covered his mouth. "I don't mean to   
  
laugh...but that's just like them. A goldfish?"  
  
"Undoubtedly, a very special goldfish to someone. I suppose someone they especially  
  
wanted to hurt. Harry, I'm afraid they've marked you and Hedwig as their next   
  
victims."  
  
"They have?" Harry asked, suddenly glad he hadn't taken them all on that night.  
  
"As it stands, I cannot allow you to return to that house."  
  
Harry felt a surge of joy, mixed with panic. "But that's-"  
  
Dumbledore held up his hand. "How would you like it if Dudley never bothered anyone  
  
ever again?"  
  
"That would be great, but...what are you going to do?"  
  
"Well, Harry, tomorrow...I must ask you to stay away from Springfield Elementary."  
  
"Dudley will be there?"  
  
"Yes, he will."  
  
And Dumbledore told him exactly what was going to happen. By the time he was done,  
  
there was a joy in Harry's eyes and also a silly grin on his face that Dumbledore   
  
was glad to see.  
  
"It's brilliant," Harry said.   
  
"I thought you'd like it. Would you like to knead the dough?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Dumbledore's fingertips brushed against his.  
  
Harry had worked with dough before; he liked shaping it, and the feel of it   
  
shifting against his hands.  
  
"Am I allowed to give you advice?"   
  
Dumbledore looked at McGonagall.   
  
"I wouldn't discourage it," he said.  
  
"Neither would I," McGonagall said. "What do you have to say, Potter?"  
  
"Oh...well...nothing, really. I don't have any problems with either of   
  
you...I did, once, with you, Professor-"  
  
"Oh?" McGonagall raised her eyebrows, but her lips didn't thin. She was curious.  
  
"At first, I thought you were too strict. But now I know why. You want us to be challenged.  
  
It builds character."  
  
McGonagall actually smiled.   
  
"I know I'm a lot stronger," Harry said. "The only issue I have is why Draco was   
  
ever a prefect."  
  
"I'm sure you can guess," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Daddy's money, right?"  
  
"Exactly. Fudge blew it. But surely you've noticed he's not a prefect this year."   
  
"I noticed."  
  
"That's because he was punished, along with the other students on Umbridge's   
  
Inquisitorial Squad."  
  
"He was?"  
  
"They were all given official reprimands from the Ministry. He's still on probation. He's  
  
out of the running for Head Boy, as well."  
  
"I don't want to be Head Boy, either."  
  
"You lie well."  
  
"Ron's the one who wants it. It's all he's ever wanted."  
  
"I agree...he'd make an exemplary head boy. But you would too, no matter how many   
  
detentions you have. If Fudge brings that up-"  
  
"-just tell him he got most of them from an incompetent," McGonagall said, then caught herself.  
  
"I shouldn't speak ill of the dead," she said cattishly. "But I just can't resist it."  
  
Dumbledore grinned.  
  
She smiled back at him.  
  
Something occurred to Harry.  
  
"Are you two married?" he asked.  
  
The two professors closed their eyes. Dumbledore took McGonagall's hand.  
  
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said. "We are."  
  
"Good," Harry said. "I'm glad. Am I the only one who knows?"  
  
"You and a few others," McGonagall said.  
  
"Anyway, back to Draco. I didn't want to hate him. I would have been his friend if he   
  
wasn't-"  
  
"-a nasty little sociopath?" McGonagall asked.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, staring at McGonagall.  
  
"He tried to make me choose between him and Ron and there was just no choice, you know?"  
  
"I can imagine," Dumbledore said. "You shouldn't have punched him last year. That's what  
  
he wanted. Instigate and blame, he learned it from his father. He's good at it. He only has   
  
one detention, did you know that?"  
  
"The one you gave him in first year," Harry told McGonagall.  
  
"He's very careful," McGonagall said. "Rest assured, Potter, most of the professors see  
  
through him. Except, of course, Professor Snape. But you have to see it from his angle,  
  
I suppose. Many children who get sorted into Slytherin come from broken homes, or   
  
badly abused-"  
  
"And Professor Snape knows what's that's like," Harry whispered.  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"Occlumency lessons, I'd gather," Dumbledore said. "How much did you see?"  
  
"Not much," Harry said. "His father terrorizing his mother."  
  
"Thank God that's all you saw," Dumbledore said. He paused.   
  
"Don't tell Snape I told you. I'm not supposed to tell anyone."  
  
"We won't say a word."  
  
The three of them were silent for a moment. Then:  
  
"How did it feel?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Slugging Draco Malfoy."  
  
"It felt great."  
  
(Hermione punched him. I punched him. Now RON better deck him soon-)  
  
"I'm sure it did. But Harry...listen...if he changed for the better...would you consider  
  
being friends?"  
  
"That'd take some kind of a miracle," Harry said.   
  
"Miracles happen," Dumbledore said.  
  
"He'd have a lot of apologies to make," Harry said. "To Hagrid, for what he tried to do  
  
to Buckbeak, for one. How is Buckbeak?"  
  
"Oh, well..."  
  
"Is he all right?"  
  
"He's fine, Harry. Buckbeak is just fine. The thing is..."  
  
"What did Kreacher do to him this time?"  
  
"Reverse positions."  
  
"Buckbeak did something to Kreacher?"  
  
"My fault, I'm afraid. I don't know how I did it, but I locked Kreacher in Buckbeak's room,  
  
and you know how Buckbeak can be..."  
  
"I've seen how he gets."  
  
"Well, he must have been aching for five minutes alone with Kreacher after their...last  
  
encounter, and he...well, he ate Kreacher."  
  
Harry didn't know what to say.  
  
"Did Kreacher give him indigestion?"  
  
"Well, there was a terrible amount of vomit on the floor...we only knew it was Kreacher  
  
by the teeth..."  
  
Harry looked down at the dough. "I think this is ready for the oven."  
  
Dumbledore opened the oven door. He took the loaf out and set it on top of the stove.  
  
"Another question," Dumbledore said. "Have you seen Grawp lately?"  
  
"You know about Grawp?"  
  
"Well, you saw the state Hagrid was in last year. Don't think I didn't notice. How   
  
do you think I got Umbridge out of the tree?"  
  
"I haven't seen Grawp at all," Harry said. "I hope he's okay."  
  
"I'm sure he is."  
  
There was a rustle of wings at the window.  
  
"Ah, Hedwig," Dumbledore said, and opened the window for her.  
  
She flew into the room, and landed on the table. She had been holding a newspaper in her  
  
claws, and she dropped it right in front of Harry.  
  
Harry looked down at it.  
  
"Oh, great," he said.  
  
"What is it?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
Harry showed her the front page.  
  
There was a picture of him; an awful, covert angle taken from far away; he knew it was  
  
from Wednesday morning, as he dressed in the bathroom. Over that, there were bold letters  
  
that read HAS HARRY POTTER DEFECTED TO AMERICA?  
  
"Looks like I'll have to talk to the Quibbler again," Harry said, resting his chin against  
  
the table, his arms out as if calling for alms.  
  
Professor McGonagall took one of his hands, warming it with her own.  
  
"I realize you don't ask for these things, Potter," she said. "They sort of rush at you  
  
from out of nowhere, don't they?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "But you know, I don't have such a bad life."  
  
In the hall, the front door opened. "Is Harry here?"   
  
"Oh, no. Mrs. Weasley probably saw it-"  
  
Mrs. Weasley stormed into the kitchen.   
  
"Have you seen this garbage?" she yelled, brandishing a Prophet."Oh...I see that you  
  
have, Albus. Harry, I don't know what to say."   
  
"How about 'Oh, bugger.'?" Harry asked.  
  
Mrs. Weasley laughed, despite her anger. "The things I'd like to say to these people would  
  
make a sailor cry. I guarantee you, Hermione's probably talking to Luna Lovegood right   
  
now and we'll get this straightened right out."  
  
"She probably is," McGonagall said.  
  
Mrs. Weasley sat next to Harry.  
  
"All they do is lie about me," Harry said.  
  
Mrs. Weasley pulled him up from the table and hugged him.  
  
"What's with all this hugging? We're supposed to be English."  
  
"I'm Irish," Mrs. Weasley said. "Which means you get kisses, too." And she   
  
kissed him on the cheek. 


	48. Is Anyone Still Reading This Nonsense?

48.   
  
IS ANYONE STILL READING THIS NONSENSE?  
  
(seriously, is anyone?)   
  
There were no weeds.  
  
Willy had been searching the grass for one weed he could pull.  
  
There weren't any.  
  
Of course, he was kind of drunk right now.   
  
The sun was going down, bathing the grass and the castle in hazy pink light.  
  
"This ain't possible," Willy said. "No weeds anywhere."  
  
Mowing this lawn could take days.   
  
Wind whistled through the trees forming the border between the forest and the   
  
castle grounds.   
  
"Willy..."   
  
"Somebody's callin' m'name on the wind," he said.  
  
As he watched, a figure floated out of the woods.  
  
Her feet didn't quite touch the ground.  
  
"Shari Bobbins," he slurred.  
  
"Hello, Willy," she said.  
  
"Euuuch. What happened to ya?"  
  
"I was sucked into the engine of a jet, Willy."  
  
Willy laughed. "Ehhh, who's ugly NOW?"  
  
She disappeared.  
  
Willy staggered backwards, and fell to the ground.  
  
In a moment, he was asleep.  
  
Then, after who knows how long:  
  
Someone shook him. "Willy. WILLY."  
  
He opened his eyes.  
  
"Up you go," Madame Hooch said, pulling Willy up. "Can you stand?"  
  
"I'm capable 'a standin', woman."  
  
He stood up, his legs unfolding like a table  
  
"Ya see?" He asked.  
  
Then his legs gave out.  
  
She caught him.   
  
"All right," she said. "I think you might need some help."  
  
"Aye, I could use another pair of legs..."  
  
She slung one of his arms across her shoulders and dragged him towards the lake.  
  
"You don't remember what we did last night," she said. "I guess that's for the best."  
  
"What'd we do?"  
  
"Nothing," she said. Actually, they had humped like ferocious animals last night in   
  
the forest.  
  
"It's funny," she said. "The relationships between the teachers, you know? The  
  
Headmaster and Minerva think no one notices them, but everybody knows they love each   
  
other. He's a hundred and fifty-six years old and his plumbing still works. Then   
  
there's Hagrid and Sprout. I'm not sure how that's possible, but-"  
  
"I almost got married once," he said, through a mouthful of marbles.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah...her name was Shari Bobbins...the prettiest girl in Glasgow..."  
  
The came to the edge of the lake.   
  
"What'm I supposed to do?"  
  
She pushed him into the water.  
  
For a second, he disappeared under the water.  
  
He came up splashing. "Agh...what the-" unintelligible "ye do that, woman?"  
  
"Feel better?" she asked.  
  
"Get in here," Willy said, and she fell into the water. 


	49. Return Of The Reverse Vampires

49.  
  
RETURN OF THE REVERSE VAMPIRES  
  
Nothing in this chapter belongs to me. I don't know who owns "Yummy Yummy Yummy."   
  
"I'm On Fire" belongs to Bruce Springsteen. "Total Eclipse Of The Heart" is Bonnie  
  
Tyler's, I guess. "Jeanny" belongs to Falco.  
  
Update: my poem "Oh No" is in the premiere issue of Mouseion. "#75" will be appearing  
  
in Decompositions, later this year.   
  
Potter was in the living room, curled up on the couch, deep in THE HITCHHIKER'S  
  
GUIDE TO THE GALAXY. He looked rather engrossed, and he was also munching on a   
  
piece of bread. Distracting him was a pleasure.  
  
"Potter," Snape said. "Have you seen the Headmaster?"  
  
Potter looked up from the book. "Sir?"  
  
"Have you seen," he said, pausing, not so much for effect as to let the words   
  
sink through Potter's thick skull. "The Headmaster."  
  
"Not for awhile," Harry said.  
  
"What about Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"I haven't seen her either, Professor."  
  
----  
  
"Albus? Albus, where-"  
  
He apppeared in front of her  
  
in the formless void  
  
"There is no time here."  
  
He kissed her, burning   
  
"Only you and I."  
  
Ancient as the stars  
  
he snared her around the waist   
  
-led her to the bed.  
  
---  
  
As he turned around, he heard Potter laugh.  
  
He turned.   
  
"Something funny, Potter?" IDIOT. "Never mind." He walked out of the room,  
  
towards the stairs.  
  
"Muh...uh, sir, I wouldn't go up there."  
  
He turned from the stairs.   
  
(Muh?)  
  
"Are you telling me what to do, Potter?"  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Simpson went upstairs a while ago."  
  
"I see," he said.   
  
---  
  
"HEY FLANDERS! YEAH, I SEE YOU IN THE WINDOW! EVER SEEN ONE OF THESE?"  
  
"Maaaarge!"  
  
"Oh dear LORD-"   
  
Flanders fainted.   
  
"Now," Marge said, her hair down and wild. "Where were we?"  
  
---  
  
"Well, what about Hagrid?"  
  
"Haven't seen him in a while, either."  
  
----  
  
Fang scratched at the door.  
  
Inside, something crashed to the floor.  
  
Then, laughter. "Eh, Sprout, who put that floor there?"  
  
----  
  
He walked back into the living room.  
  
He stood in front of the couch.  
  
"Where is everybody?" Snape asked.   
  
"Dunno," Potter said. "Except for Mr. and Mrs Simpson."  
  
Right. Snape had never had to endure listening to his parents' upstairs activities  
  
because they stopped all carnal activity after he'd been born. His father found a   
  
substitute for that with his merciless, drunken beatings of Snape's mother. "He'll   
  
change, Severus. Just wait. He'll change." He never had. The last thing he did on his   
  
deathbed: he whispered "Come here," to Severus. Severus came. Then his father slapped   
  
him across the face, made an absolutely disgusting sound in his throat, and expired.  
  
Who else was here?  
  
Moody-  
  
---  
  
"Hey, gorgeous."  
  
Moody didn't turn. No one had ever called him gorgeous before.  
  
The elderly woman tugged at his cloak.   
  
"Mother, what are you doing?"  
  
"Shut up, Seymour. I already told you, I'm looking for a man."  
  
"Looks like y'already have one," Moody said, looking at Skinner.  
  
Agnes Skinner looked up at Seymour. "Nah."  
  
---  
  
(Should I ask permission?)  
  
As if he needed Potter's permission to sit down.  
  
He sat down.  
  
"I saw the DAILY PROPHET, Potter."  
  
Finally, Potter put the book down.  
  
"It's not true."  
  
Potter didn't run from anything. Not unless there was no other choice.  
  
"Just as long as your picture's in the paper, right?"  
  
Potter didn't get angry or indiginant.  
  
That was a bad sign.  
  
(Come on, Potter, give me an excuse)  
  
"It'll be in the Quibbler soon," Harry said.  
  
"It might not be wise to spread yourself so thick, Potter. I've found that a little  
  
of you goes a long way. When you rescued that prince-"  
  
He smiled.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "You're right."  
  
"What?" (Are you AGREEING with me?!)  
  
"I came here to help out, and they think I defected. It's funny, really."  
  
Snape searched for a cutting remark.   
  
He couldn't think of anything to say.   
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"The time is seven o'clock exactly, Potter. The sun just went down."  
  
"'Battle Of The Evil Child Geniuses' is on at eight," Potter said.   
  
"Typical," Snape said. He stood up, and as he tried to leave the room-  
  
"Professor-"  
  
"What is it, Potter?"  
  
"Can I ask a question?"  
  
"A question," Snape said. "After six years, you want to ask me...one question. Very  
  
well, Potter, I shall direct every ounce of my intellect towards answering your   
  
...question."  
  
"Over the summer, I tried to-"  
  
"The question, Potter, the question."  
  
"It's coming. I wanted to see if I could totally reinvent myself-"  
  
"And your question is why you couldn't do it, am I correct?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, Potter, all I can say is that everyone has the potential to be evil, or  
  
good...it's quite simple. You have a conscience. Voldemort has none whatsoever.  
  
One of the reasons you're in bloody Gryffindor. You're so much like your father-"  
  
"The Sorting Hat said I would have done well in Slitheryn."  
  
"Did it say why?"  
  
"I've figured out why," Harry said. "Dumbledore told me some of it, about how   
  
there are qualities about me prevalent in Salazar Slytherin's most prized students."  
  
"And what else do you think you know?"  
  
"I think I would have done well in Slitheryn because you hated my father and if I'd  
  
been in Slitheryn it would have been your ultimate revenge against him for  
  
marrying my mother, because you loved her."  
  
"...And how did you come to this?"  
  
"Occlumency."  
  
"That's not part of occlumency."  
  
"Well, that and the fact that you've never once badmouthed my mother."  
  
Snape looked away. "Your mother..."  
  
"You loved her, didn't you?"  
  
"Everybody loved your mother. Except, of course, her sister."  
  
"Including you."  
  
"YES, all right, Potter? I. Loved. Your. Mother. And James Potter-she and James  
  
Potter-James Potter went and fell in love with her and every time I look at you I see   
  
him laughing at me, but what really hurts is that you have her EYES. I can barely   
  
stand to look at you sometimes, is that what you want to hear? You EXIST, and that   
  
alone drives me to drink."   
  
"Have you ever been happy, sir?"  
  
"Once," Snape said. "When I thought your mother loved me."  
  
There was a silence between them.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry said.  
  
"I don't want your apology."  
  
"What about thanks?"  
  
"Thanks? For what?"  
  
"For watching out for me. In first year."  
  
"I knew I'd live to regret it."  
  
"I'm sure Hermione's sorry for setting you on fire. And we felt kind of bad   
  
about knocking you out-"  
  
"You think so, do you. Well, Potter, your apologies are worthless. They mean  
  
nothing to me."  
  
"Didn't think they would," Potter said. "But Muh...I mean-sir...I wanted to say   
  
them."  
  
"Yes, well," Snape drew his wand. "Sentiments won't protect you from legillimency."  
  
"I've been practicing, Professor."  
  
"Have you now?" He pointed his wand at Potter.  
  
"You don't wanna do that."  
  
"You're wrong, Potter. I very much would. Maybe I'll see how you saved Black  
  
in third year, or-"  
  
"You don't have to try making me angry anymore, like last year." Potter said.   
  
(He's onto me. How's this possible?)  
  
"Sirius is dead, but you know what? My life is less complicated now. I don't  
  
have to worry about him. And that gives me more time to concentrate on other things.   
  
One of them WAS occlumency."  
  
Snape felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees.  
  
"My ultimate revenge," Snape said, testing the words. "No, Potter, my ultimate   
  
revenge would have been having you as a son."  
  
They stared each other down  
  
"I'm glad you're not my father," Potter said.  
  
"Considering how you turned out, I'm glad you're not my son."   
  
"Oh, right, I forgot. Draco Malfoy's your prize student."  
  
Snape scowled.  
  
"If you ever teach Defense Against The Dark Arts, I hope you teach him what  
  
he really needs to know."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"That defense doesn't neccessarily mean screaming and running."   
  
Snape pointed his wand at Potter.  
  
"Last warning," Potter said.  
  
Snape smirked. "The Muggles have a saying, Potter. That saying is...just bring it."  
  
Harry took a deep breath.   
  
"LEGILLIMENS!"  
  
-and suddenly the room shifted to a room he knew too well, it was his room, and  
  
he was a teenager again, and he was huddled in one corner of the room, trying to  
  
make the pain go away-he could hear his mother screaming at his father through  
  
the door, and then there was the unmistakable airy noise of callused flesh meeting  
  
a soft cheek, and he knew he'd slapped her again. He got to his feet and then his   
  
father kicked the door in. Coiled around his red, bloody fist was a leather belt-  
  
"Drop your pants," he growled, his voice several octaves lower than normal.  
  
"Potter, STOP-"  
  
-and then the scene shifted to another house. He stood alone in the backyard of  
  
some suburban house. The house where Potter lived.  
  
Potter appeared in the upstairs window.  
  
Snape burst into song.  
  
"Haaaappyyy biiirthdaaaaay toooo youuuuuuu..."  
  
He began unbuttoning his cloak.  
  
"-haaapy biiirthdaaaay toooo youuuuu..."  
  
His cloak fell to the ground. He removed his boots.  
  
"Haaappy biiirthday deaaar Haaaa-reeeeee..."  
  
Then he removed his socks.  
  
Haaapy biiirthdaaay tooo youuuu..."  
  
He moved on to his pants.  
  
"And maaaa-ny mooooore-"  
  
-and then he was on the couch again.  
  
"I told you not to, Marvin." Harry said.   
  
Snape jumped to his feet.   
  
"Marvin? Who's Marvin?"  
  
"I don't want to make you feel worse."  
  
"WHO...IS...MARVIN?"  
  
"Marvin the Paranoid Android," Harry said. "You-"  
  
"No."  
  
"He reminds me of you."  
  
Snape swallowed.  
  
"We'll discuss this later. You're lucky I've been forbidden to take points away  
  
while we're here."  
  
He made for the hall.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"...yes?"  
  
Potter smiled. "Don't panic."  
  
---  
  
The beauty of the night sky was absolutely lost on Draco, but the stars   
  
certainly enchanted Blaise. They weren't supposed to be in the Astronomy   
  
Tower this late, but-  
  
"They're late," Draco said.   
  
"Patience, Draco."  
  
"Right. Good things come to those who wait. I've heard that one a million times.  
  
I prefer not to wait, Blaise. I prefer to grab everything before anyone can stop me."  
  
She looked over at Draco. He wasn't going to be a handsome man at all, not with  
  
that permanent frown on his face and that attitude. Yes, she was a Slitheryn, but  
  
she didn't share any of Draco Malfoy's outlook on life.  
  
"What's it like?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You haven't been able to do magic for days."  
  
"When I find out who's got my powers-"  
  
The door in the floor opened.  
  
Pansy stuck her head into the room.  
  
"Millicent's behind me," she said.  
  
She climbed into the room. Blaise wondered what Pansy Parkinson would do for a living  
  
after she finished school. Pansy would probably travel the world and kill people for  
  
her own amusement. As for Millicent Bulstrode, she would probably find work as a   
  
female wrestler.  
  
Millicent climbed into the room.   
  
"Well," Pansy said, "We're all here, so-"  
  
"Look, Pansy, what's this about?" Draco asked, already bored.  
  
"It's about Potter, Draco."  
  
"What about Potter?"  
  
"Stop interrupting me and I'll tell you. Now, I heard that Potter's going on a   
  
date with Angelina Johnson on Saturday-"  
  
Millicent laughed. "Once you go black-"  
  
"Millicent, shut up. Potter is going on a date with Johnson Saturday, in  
  
the town where that dotty janitor exchanged places with Hagrid."  
  
"I hope they keep him," Draco said. "Maybe they have a zoo."  
  
Pansy had to laugh at that one.  
  
"How did you hear about this?" Draco asked.  
  
"The usual channels," Pansy said. "Johnson told Katie Bell, who told one of her  
  
other friends and it spread. You know how things get around in this place. It's  
  
impossible to keep secrets. The walls listen. The paintings talk to each other.  
  
Anyway, I happened to be around the corner when she told Bell."  
  
"See, I told you that gets results."  
  
"What, whining and hiding?"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"Anyway, it's a chance to make Potter look like an idiot."  
  
"I'm for it." Draco said. "Any chance to make Potter look bad-"  
  
"I don't know-" Blaise said, and the other three turned on her. "Don't look   
  
at me like that. The POTTER STINKS buttons didn't work, and ridiculing his   
  
friends didn't work, and neither did joining Umbridge's goon squad. Do you   
  
even remember why you hate Potter, Draco? Is it because he's always kicking  
  
your arse at Quidditch?"  
  
"I shouldn't have to tell you why I hate Potter," Draco said, his eyes wide. "Why  
  
don't you hate him?"  
  
"I've only talked to him once and he was nice."  
  
"What did you talk about?" Pansy asked.  
  
"Nothing, really. I dropped my Arithmancy books and he happened to be standing   
  
there and he said 'Here, let me get those,' and he picked up my books and carried  
  
them into class like a gentleman. I said 'Thanks' and he said 'No problem' and   
  
then I realized it was him. 'My name's Blaise' I said. 'Blaise Zabini' and he  
  
said 'Harry. Harry Potter.' Count me out of this stupid plan, whatever it is."  
  
Blaise made her exit.  
  
"Blaise is no longer one of us," Millicent said.  
  
"Oh, well, the three of us are more than enough," Pansy said.   
  
Draco smirked. "Parkinson, you're such a disease."  
  
In the shadow of the telescope, they planned. Afterward, they slipped away, off  
  
to bed. For a long moment, the Astronomy Tower was absolutely still.  
  
Then the side of the telescope slid open, revealing an alarmed-looking Filius   
  
Flitwick. Underneath him, so as not to crush him; Celeste Sinistra.  
  
"We have to tell Dumbledore," he said.  
  
"We will, Filius, we will. But I'm not done with you just yet."  
  
She slammed the telescope shut.  
  
---  
  
Snape faced the mirror. Stared into it.  
  
"I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed."  
  
(it's TRUE it's TRUE IT'S TRUE)  
  
---  
  
He opened the front door-  
  
-and the dog jumped on him; Santa's Little Helper licked Snape's face.  
  
"Down, boy," he said.   
  
He didn't feel the same way about animals as he did most people.   
  
The dog scrambled into the house as he left.  
  
He went outside, slamming the door behind him. He stood on the front step, staring   
  
into the sky. There were stars everywhere tonight. Was it beautiful? Had he   
  
lost his ability to tell? What was beauty, really? Music was beautiful. The works of   
  
Shakespeare were beautiful. The art of potion making. The ladies of Hogwarts. Minerva   
  
McGonagall, Madame Hooch...Selma-  
  
"No," Snape said, balling his hands into fists. "No, no, bugger it, NO."  
  
The street seemed to stretch for miles. It was too big for him.  
  
He walked around the side of the house; before he got very far, a little boy  
  
with curly hair stuck his head over the hedge.  
  
"Are you the Devil?"  
  
Snape had the impression he was standing on someone's shoulders, the way he was   
  
weaving. He wore a shirt that read GOD IS THE ANSWER. Snape wondered how many  
  
questions there were.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
"Rod Flanders. That's my brother Todd, down there."  
  
"Raa-awwd," Todd whined. "Don't introduce me to the Devil."  
  
"Are you the Devil, mister?"  
  
"Why, yes, Rod. I am the Devil. I've heard so much about you. A pleasure, finally  
  
crosing your path-"  
  
Those two kids screamed and ran faster than anyone Severus had ever seen.  
  
He managed to smirk.  
  
The backyard was empty.  
  
Except for the treehouse.  
  
Snape could hear voices coming from above.  
  
There was a ladder of rope leading up to the house.  
  
It turned out to be sturdy.  
  
Remus Lupin was up there, and he was surrounded by kids.  
  
"Severus. What a surprise."  
  
"Lupin, you're the only adult I've seen in the last hour."  
  
"Milhouse here was just telling me why. Milhouse?"  
  
"We-ell," Milhouse said, "It's the Rand Corporation. They did this once before."  
  
Lisa Simpson rolled her eyes, but the rest of the kids agreed.  
  
"Yeah," Milhouse said,"They turned all the adults into reverse vampires."  
  
"...reverse vampires," Snape repeated. "And what of forwardly mobile werewolves?"  
  
"He relegated his lycanthropic status immediately," Martin said.  
  
"How fortunate."  
  
"Told us what now?" Nelson asked.  
  
"Didn't you hear me? I'm a lycanthrope."  
  
"Duuuuude," Nelson said. "You can eat metal?"  
  
"No, Nelson, I'm a werewolf."  
  
"Have you ever eaten a human being?"  
  
"No, I haven't."  
  
"Ha HAAA. You suck at being a werewolf."  
  
Lupin grinned. "Tell Professor Snape about your NUKE THE WHALES poster."  
  
"Another time, perhaps," Snape said.   
  
He descended the ladder.  
  
For some reason, he began thinking of the Defense Against The Dark Arts position.  
  
"Quirrell...possessed and dead..."  
  
Snape sat down at the picnic table.   
  
"Lockhart...amnesiac and alive. Lupin. Lycanthrope and alive."  
  
Inside the house, the phone rang.  
  
"Moody...technically, Barty Crouch Jr...worse than dead."  
  
The ringing ceased.  
  
"Umbridge. Insane and dead."  
  
A shadow fell across the lawn.  
  
"Awww, who's dead NOW?"  
  
Snape turned and saw Chief Wiggum.  
  
"Evening, Chief. I was just...talking to myself."  
  
"Oh yeah, I hear that a lot."  
  
Ralph Wiggum rushed past. He was barking like a dog.  
  
"Wiggle Puppy," Wiggum explained.  
  
"I see," Snape said, even though he didn't. "Did you just wake up?"  
  
"We've been awake for awhile. Someone did some work on me while I was out. I   
  
got shot in the ass. The wound's been cleaned and dressed, and the bullet's gone."  
  
Snape decided not to ask how he knew that.  
  
"The more I hear about this Riddle guy...well, I'm sure you know how we feel about  
  
terrorists in this country."  
  
Thomas Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, a terrorist?  
  
(what does that make ME?)  
  
"I've heard," Snape said.   
  
---  
  
He leaned in close to Ralph's ear.  
  
"Look at 'em, Ralph."  
  
Ralph turned.  
  
"They've gotta burn, laddie. Both of 'em gotta taste the flames. Even if 'e is   
  
your father."  
  
"But daddy-"  
  
"-and then y'gotta burn this town to the ground. And maybe Shelbyville too. Eh,  
  
there's no maybe about it. Shelbyville gets roasted, too. Burn, burn, burn, burn  
  
burn, burn, BURN."  
  
---  
  
And then who should turn up in the cool night but Selma.  
  
"Hi, Severus."  
  
He bowed to her.  
  
(Just being polite. I have no feelings for her whatsoever, I'm just...being...POLITE)  
  
She sat down, far too close to him.  
  
(When am I ever polite to anyone? Well, discounting my colleagues?)  
  
He couldn't let her fall for him. It wouldn't be right.  
  
"Selma-"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
She leaned into him.  
  
Then she put her hand on his knee.  
  
He jerked away.  
  
She laughed.  
  
"Professor Snape," she said, "Am I scaring you?"  
  
"It takes considerably more than that to frighten me."  
  
"Am I moving too fast?"  
  
He didn't answer.  
  
(Come on, Severus, she's attracted to you. How long has it been, Severus?)  
  
"Would you at least look at me?"  
  
(Have I ever had consensual intercourse?)  
  
Snape turned to her.  
  
"I want you to know that...I'm very attracted to you. I don't care if it's wrong.  
  
I've fallen hard for men before-ah, you don't want to hear that."   
  
She lit up a cigarette, and took a few puffs.  
  
"Are you attracted to me?"  
  
"I don't know," Snape said.   
  
"I understand."  
  
"You don't want to get involved with me," Snape said. "I lead a complex life."  
  
"Who doesn't?"  
  
"Look...falling in love with me is the worst choice you could possibly make. I have   
  
no idea how I'd even begin showing you affection-"  
  
"MACGYVER," she said. "You've gotta be a MACGYVER fan."  
  
"I've never seen an episode of MACGYVER. I'm not capable of anything resembling  
  
love, Selma. It's been wrung out of me, like a sponge. I am but a dry dishtowel,  
  
an...an empty colostomy bag."  
  
"There's no love in your tummy?"  
  
"...what?"  
  
She began to sing. Her voice was full of cigarettes and whiskey, like Janis Joplin.  
  
Or at least his muggle great-uncle Murray.   
  
"Yummy yummy yummy, I got love in my tummy, and I feel like loving you..."  
  
"What an awful song," Snape said.   
  
She laughed. "I know...I think the author had a bad case of the flu."  
  
Snape did not laugh, or smile or react at all.   
  
"Once, I was capable of happiness. I smiled as easily as you do. I-"  
  
"-coulda had class, right? You coulda been a CONTENDER."  
  
"I don't understand-"  
  
"Marlon Brando," she said. "Haven't you ever seen a Marlon Brando movie? Haven't  
  
you ever seen THE GODFATHER?"  
  
"Yes. But I honestly don't care for this society. It's sick. I prefer to stay as far   
  
away from it as possible."  
  
"You've never even seen THE WILD ONE. That's terrible. There's one line you'd love."  
  
"And what line is that?"  
  
"This cop asks Brando what he's rebelling against, and Brando says 'Whaddaya GOT?'"  
  
Snape thought about it.  
  
"Doesn't that move you at all?"  
  
"Shakespeare moves me. Philosophy moves me. The art of potion-making moves me."  
  
"See, you're not so bad. You've given your life to intellectual thought-"  
  
"I gave anything resembling a real life up long ago when I joined forces with the  
  
Dark Lord."  
  
If she'd been wearing glasses, she would have been looking over the tops of them.  
  
Just like Dumbledore.   
  
"The Dark Lord?" she asked. "You've gotta be kidding me. Does this guy have a name?"  
  
"We do not speak it."  
  
"Oooh. How very DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS. C'mon, what's his name?"  
  
"It's not for you to say."  
  
"It wouldn't be...Voldemort, would it?"  
  
"...how do you know that?"  
  
"I asked around. You know, your colleagues have a high opinion of you. So do your  
  
students, even if you hate every one of them."  
  
"I don't hate my students."  
  
"You hate Potter."  
  
"Yes, and the more I hate Potter, the better it is for him."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"Selma, I used to be a servant of the Dark Lord...now I only serve Hogwarts, and  
  
Professor Dumbledore...but the pull of evil is strong."  
  
"I know, I've seen STAR WARS."  
  
"Dammit, woman, this isn't some movie, this is SERIOUS. This is...cosmic. The  
  
battle between Yin and Yang, Good and Evil-and I am sorely tempted by the darkness.  
  
But Dumbledore...you know, even after all the things I did, he took me in? I'll  
  
never be able to repay him. If the Dark Lord knew I admire Potter, my  
  
life would mean nothing. It's better for myself and for Potter if I hate him."  
  
"Does The Dark Lord-" she pumped her fingers up and down-"have a real name?"  
  
"I don't-"  
  
"What is it, Myron Kabotchnik?"  
  
"Thomas Marvolo Riddle."  
  
"Jesus. No wonder he changed it. Probably got teased every day."  
  
"You have no idea-"  
  
"You think I should be afraid? Uh-uh. I've been married twice. You can't even  
  
say his made-up name without cringing."  
  
"SILENCE-"  
  
She raised her voice. "Yell all you want. I'm not afraid of him. I'm really not   
  
afraid of his name. Voldemort. Voldemort-" Now she was really yelling-"Voldemort,   
  
VOLDEMORT VOLDEMORT VOLDEMORT-" and he slapped her.   
  
It surprised him more than it surprised her.  
  
(that's just what your FATHER would have done-)  
  
She put a hand against her cheek.  
  
"You hit me," she said.  
  
"I cannot, will not allow you to share my life, you stupid woman, don't you see?"  
  
"Yeah? Then why are you still here?"  
  
Snape realized that there was only one thing he could do.  
  
"Curiosity," he said, his voice shaking. "You disgust me. I look at you and   
  
I imagine all the bacteria crawling around on your disgusting body. I find you   
  
totally incoherent, and genuinely repulsive. You sicken me. I'm sure the very thought   
  
of you will make me vomit later, until I am shriven of whatever may have given you   
  
the incorrect impression that I could possibly even sit here next to you without  
  
becoming ill. Right now, if I could wish for anything in the world, it would be   
  
a paper bag, to put over your head."  
  
"Severus-"  
  
"You know what I think about when I see two people in love? I comfort myself in that  
  
one of them probably has gonorrhea and they're going to be spurting cheese nonstop  
  
for the rest of their lives. Have you ever seen Bergman's THE SEVENTH SEAL? Love  
  
really, truly is the blackest of all plagues. Love is a disease. A sickness that  
  
eats people alive and drives them insane. That is what you are to me, Selma. You are   
  
nothing. You are the equivalent of...a pile of canine excrement being eaten by flies   
  
on a hot summer's day. There. How do you like me, now that you know I'd rather eat  
  
broken glass than look at you, you insolent fat pig?"  
  
Without another word, she stood up, and in an instant, he was alone.  
  
He sat there, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened.  
  
It wouldn't jeopardize their relationship with the town, but-  
  
(C'mon, Severus, forget her. You know you want to. Just as much as-)  
  
Just as much as-  
  
"Ahhh, BLAST it..."  
  
(Just as much as you want to do good...and apologize.)   
  
He launched himself off the bench and sprinted towards the front of the house.  
  
There was a car parked across the street, but he didn't notice it.  
  
"Selmaaaaaaa..."   
  
He shouted it loud enough for the whole neighborhood.  
  
"Sel-MAAAAAAA-"  
  
Lights began to come on.  
  
"SEL-"  
  
"Hey, SHUT up," someone yelled.  
  
Somewhere down the street, a dog howled.  
  
"Selma," Snape whispered.   
  
"Oh, I know," said someone behind him.  
  
Snape turned, just in time to see a flash of crazed purplish hair, and the  
  
crowbar heading for his temple.  
  
He woke up, and felt the sensation of speed.  
  
Snape had been strapped into the passenger seat. Except these were not seatbelts,  
  
they were leather straps. They tied people down with these in asylums-  
  
He turned his head, and recognized the driver.  
  
Snape groaned. "Hello, Bob."  
  
"Ah, Severus. Did you dream?"  
  
"No," Snape said.   
  
"When you do dream, do you remember what you dreamed about?"  
  
"It tends to stay with me."  
  
"Do you dream in color?"  
  
"Black and white."  
  
"Ah, yes, I figured your subconscious would be pure film noir, filled with   
  
shadows and darkness."  
  
There was a bizarre contraption on the dashboard, across from Snape, held together  
  
with duct tape. It looked like a motorized set of Lego blocks, built to resemble  
  
an arm. Attached to that was a handgun, a steely Baretta.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It's something I put together. The ultimate lie detector. Based on something  
  
I saw in a comic book once. Ever read JOHNNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC, by Jhonen  
  
Vasquez?"  
  
"I may have confiscated an issue from one of my students."  
  
"Well, at one point in the series, Johnny rigged his telephone to this robotic  
  
arm, and rigged the arm with a gun. If someone called, and he answered, he  
  
would die. But he figured he was safe, because no one ever, ever called him. But  
  
then, somebody did."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"This girl...it's a long story. Anyway, he answered the phone. BLAMMO."  
  
"Blammo?"  
  
"This thing is programmed so that if you tell a lie, or if you choose not to   
  
answer...well, I don't have to spell THAT out for you, do I?"  
  
"No, you don't."  
  
"Great. Then let us begin. Do you love Selma?"  
  
Snape opened his mouth.  
  
"I-"  
  
The arm jerked upward. A jolt of electricity shot through Snape.  
  
"I forgot to mention, it also delivers electric shocks," Bob said.  
  
"Do you? Remember, if you lie-"  
  
"If you kill me-"  
  
The gun drew level to Snape's forehead.  
  
"Do you love Selma? Come on, Snape-"  
  
The hammer cocked.  
  
"DO YOU LOVE SELMA?"  
  
"I DON'T KNOW."  
  
The arm began to shake. It let go of the gun, and the weapon fell to the floor.  
  
The arm fell apart.  
  
"Wonderful," Sideshow Bob said.   
  
"Not very sturdy," Snape said. "What other entertainments do you have in store for   
  
me, Bob?"  
  
Bob switched on the radio.  
  
"-did he go and leave you all alone, mm-hmmm...I got a bad desire...whoa-oo-oh,  
  
I'm on fire..."   
  
Bob sang along with it.   
  
Snape listened silently.  
  
"Don't tell me you're unfamiliar with the Boss."  
  
"The Boss?"  
  
"Bruce Springsteen, Professor. You look like a man who appreciates music."  
  
"I do, but-"  
  
Bob began flipping channels. Snape wished he would keep his eyes on the road.  
  
Finally, he found more music. A guy speaking German over a slow beat.   
  
"Falco," Bob said. "Best known for 'Rock Me Amadeus' and 'Der Kommisar.' This  
  
song's called 'Jeanny' and the video was banned in Germany."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The thing about this song is that it's a murder ballad. And in the video, there's  
  
a scene where the murderer carries his victim through the woods. They didn't like  
  
that part. It's strange, in Germany they ordered all copies of NEKROMANTIK II:  
  
THE RETURN OF THE LOVING DEAD destroyed, but it's okay to watch videos of someone  
  
ingesting fecal matter. Something's wrong with that."   
  
They listened to the song.  
  
"So," Bob asked. "Do you love Selma?"  
  
"I've never felt this way about anyone," he said.   
  
"BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. Very romantic. The whole concept of love is new to you, isn't   
  
it?"  
  
"No...I try to keep everyone around me at arm's length, except Filch."   
  
"Filch?"  
  
"The castle caretaker," Snape said. "I respect my fellow professors. I'd like to   
  
think I have their respect. I may not have made the wisest choices, but-"  
  
"We're here," Bob said, stopping the car.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Selma's apartment building. And there's Selma."  
  
Selma passed the car without looking at it, and headed towards the boxy,   
  
crumbling building.  
  
Bob opened the door.  
  
"What are you doing?" Snape asked.  
  
"Watch this," Bob said. He got out of the car. "Selma," he called.  
  
Selma turned, illuminated by the streetlight above.  
  
"Hello, Bob," she said.  
  
"Listen, I brought someone over. He's quite a mess."  
  
"Thank you, Bob," Snape said, in the tone Dumbledore used whenever he wanted   
  
Snape to shut up. He opened the door, and leaned partway out of the car.  
  
"Selma-"  
  
"You've made your feelings clear," Selma said. "You don't need to say anything else."  
  
"Excuse me," Snape said.   
  
"Go for it," Bob said.   
  
Snape caught Selma as she opend the door.  
  
"Selma, I-"  
  
"I'm glad you followed me," she said.  
  
"You are?"  
  
She slugged him in the gut.  
  
In the car, Bob made a face.  
  
As he doubled over, she kicked him in the crotch.   
  
Bob crossed his legs.  
  
It hurt, but then, Snape probably welcomed any kind of feeling between his legs.  
  
Then, as he sank to his knees, she punched him in the jaw, sending him to the   
  
concrete.  
  
"That's for calling me fat," she said.  
  
She opened the door, and entered the building.  
  
Snape heard another door open. Bob was at his side.  
  
He pulled Snape into a sitting position.  
  
"Come on," he said. "Before you lose her."  
  
"I've already lost her," Snape said, marbles in his mouth.  
  
"You have NOT."  
  
"Bob, have you ever heard the phrase 'Know when to stop?'"  
  
"I never know when to stop. I'm a homicidal maniac, for God's sake."  
  
He pulled Snape to his feet.  
  
"Go in there and get her."  
  
"That's some advice," Snape said, wobbling towards the door.  
  
He opened it, and staggered into the building.  
  
Then he remembered something.  
  
"Bob, are you still there?"  
  
"I'm here," Bob said, in the doorway.  
  
"Which apartment is hers?"  
  
"Third floor,at the end of the hallway." Bob said. "I almost forgot to mention...the   
  
elevator is out of order."  
  
Snape eyed the stairs.  
  
Patty arrived at the apartment to find a strange man outside the apartment. He   
  
was dressed in black from head to toe, and his hair hung about him like some  
  
self-conscious goth kid trying to hide his zits. He was a young man, and there  
  
was such sadness in his eyes. He had seen far too much. Actually, he looked like  
  
someone had sprayed him with the contents of a giant-sized can of whoop-ass.  
  
"Hey," Patty said.  
  
"Are you Selma's sister?"  
  
"Patty," she said. "And you are?"  
  
"Professor Severus Snape," he said.  
  
"Oh, yeah...you're from that school-what's it called?"  
  
"Hogwarts. Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry."  
  
Witchcraft and Wizardry and Whoop-Ass, she thought.  
  
From inside the apartment: "-Turn aroouuuuund, BRIIIIGHT EYES-"  
  
"Oh, great. You really dusted her cabana, didn't you?"  
  
Snape leaned against the door.  
  
"I made a dreadful mistake," he said. "I've been so blind."  
  
Patty put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
He looked at her, utterly wretched.  
  
Inside the apartment, Selma croaked "-eeev'ry now and then I FALL APAAAA-ART..."  
  
"I'll get her," Patty said.  
  
She pounded on the door. "Hey PATTY. There's a GUY out here who DESPERATELY   
  
wants to see you and if you don't open the door RIGHT NOW, I'm LETTING HIM IN."  
  
Down the hall, a door opened and some guy poked his head into the hallway.  
  
"People are trying to SLEEP-"  
  
"Ahhh, go soak your head, Phil. SELMA-"  
  
Someone slumped against the other side of the door.  
  
"He's a WIZARD," Selma yelled. "He can open the door HIMSELF."  
  
Patty looked at Snape.  
  
"Are you a good wizard or a bad wizard?"  
  
"I ask myself that question every day."  
  
"Can you really open the door?"  
  
"Yes," Snape said. "I can."  
  
He pointed his wand at the door.  
  
"Alohomora."  
  
The locks disengaged.  
  
The door swung open.  
  
A potted plant sailed out of the apartment, missing them by inches.  
  
It slammed into the wall and broke apart, crumbling to the floor.  
  
"Well," Patty said, sweeping her arm towards the door.  
  
Snape looked at her for a moment.  
  
"...thank you."  
  
Patty nodded. "Guess I'll go for a walk."  
  
Snape crossed the threshold.  
  
Then he closed the door.  
  
Outside, the night was cool and pleasant.  
  
She noticed Sideshow Bob's car.  
  
She went over and knocked on the window.  
  
It rolled down. Bob smiled.  
  
"Ah. Good evening, Patty."  
  
"You doing anything?" she asked him. 


	50. Hagrid and Dumbledore

50.  
HAGRID AND DUMBLEDORE or It took THREE months to write THIS?  
  
If these characters belonged to me, I'd be filthy rich. Anyway, I apologize again for the delay in getting this chapter written. My grandmother died, and then so did my computer monitor. Also, I'm taking care of a kitten who was separated from his mother far too early. On the writing front, my story "The Playroom" has been accepted to an anthology called TRIP THE LIGHT HORRIFIC and my story "Dead Down South" received Honorable Mention in Lost In The Dark's Southern Halloween contest. It'll appear in the Autumn issue. I'm amazed it got anywhere. You know you've caught a reader's attention when you change somebody's name in the middle of a scene and they don't mention it...  
  
Dumbledore emerged from the bathroom, arranging his robes.  
He stopped in Maggie's room for a moment.  
  
He produced a smiling teddy bear and put it in the crib with her.  
  
"Good night, Maggie. Pleasant dreams."  
  
Lisa was also asleep. She'd done so reading an issue of JUNIOR SKEPTIC, which  
  
featured a picture of a being that looked more like a gray Gumby than an alien.  
  
Dumbledore had never seen an alien in his life, but he believed in them.  
  
He could only speculate about what Bart was doing.  
  
Downstairs, Harry and Professor McGonagall were having a spirited conversation.  
  
"-complete nonsense," she was saying. Then she saw Dumbledore. "Oh. Albus...  
  
I was just telling Harry about THE RESTAURANT AT THE END OF THE UNIVERSE."  
  
"Ah, yes...the second book in the trilogy."  
  
"But there are five books," Harry said.  
  
"Yes, there certainly are."  
  
"Harry, may I tell Professor Dumbledore about-"  
  
"I dunno if you should," Harry said.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Does Severus ever remind you of...a certain character?"  
  
"Who, Argrajag?"  
  
"Who?" Harry asked.  
  
"Er, forget it, Harry. Argrajag doesn't appear until the third book. Actually,  
  
that's not true...Is it Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged?"  
  
"Good choice," Minerva said,"But no."  
  
"Well, then, who?"  
  
"Marvin."  
  
"Oh no."  
  
He covered his mouth to keep from laughing.  
  
"Yes," Minerva said. She took Harry by the hand and actually cackled.  
  
He sat next to Minerva.  
  
"Then who am I?" he asked. "Slartibartfast?"  
  
"No, you're Deep Thought."  
  
Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"And Potter here is Arthur Dent. Weasley's your Ford Prefect."  
  
"Then would Hermione be Trillian?"  
  
"Yes, she would. Now, Zaphod Beeblebrox...I don't know..."  
  
"President of the Galaxy," Potter said. "Fudge?"  
  
"Two-headed, Potter, not two-faced."  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
"Minerva, would you care to go for a walk?"  
  
"All right," she said. "I suppose you'll be asleep when we get back, Potter,  
  
so good night."  
  
"I've stayed up later than this, doing my Transfiguration homework."  
  
"Well. I commend your dedication."  
  
There was a knock at the door. Judging by the way the door vibrated, it could  
  
only be Hagrid.  
  
Marge Simpson came in from the other room. "I'll get it." She did.  
  
"Evening, Mrs. Simpson," said Hagrid. He ducked under the doorframe, and  
  
entered the house. He was carrying a tray of treacle fudge. "Hope yeh don't mind,  
  
but I made some fudge for yeh."  
  
"Well, that was very thoughtful, Hagrid," Marge said.  
  
Hagrid bowed.  
  
Then he saw Dumbledore, and straightened up. "Professor Dumbledore,sir."  
  
"Good evening, Hagrid."  
  
"Evening. Hey, Harry. Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Hagrid," Dumbledore said, "Would you care to go for a walk?"  
  
"A walk? Yeah, all right."  
  
Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "Good night, Harry."  
  
He ruffled Harry's hair.  
  
"Good night, sir," Harry said.  
  
Dumbledore waited for Hagrid to join him outside. Then he closed the door  
  
with a wave of his hand.  
  
"So where we goin'?"  
  
"I don't know," Dumbledore said. "Wherever we end up."  
  
"Suits me fine," said Hagrid.  
  
The night was calm. Stars filled the sky.  
  
Neither man spoke, for awhile. As they walked down Evergreen Terrace, Dumbledore  
  
hummed, and Hagrid listened to the jaunty, upbeat melody.  
  
"What is that?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"That tune yer hummin'."  
  
"You know, I'm not sure," Dumbledore smiled. "Sometimes I don't listen."  
  
"Yeh don't even know yeh're doin' it?"  
  
"Exactly. I catch myself in the midst of the music, and wish someone were around to  
  
transcribe it onto paper. Compensation for a lack of musical ability, I suppose."  
  
"Ah, c'mon, I've heard yeh sing."  
  
"How could you stand it?"  
  
Hagrid chuckled. "Yeh sounded fine to me."  
  
"You're much more accomplished than I. That flute of yours-"  
  
"Well, it's more a Pan pipe than a flute...like that fella plays...what's his name?"  
  
"Zamfir," Dumbledore said, his mustache twitching.  
  
"Yeah, that's him."  
  
"I've heard you play," Dumbledore said. "You have a gift for music. There are times  
  
when I envy your talent." Without looking, he knew Hagrid blushed because he felt the heat from the giant man's  
  
flushed skin.  
  
"Yeh do?" he asked.  
  
"You seem surprised."  
  
"I...didn't know yeh heard me."  
  
"I prefer to let you play."  
  
A low-rider, its headlights bright, sped past them. A heavy bass beat made the  
  
chrome vibrate. The music made Dumbledore want to dance.  
  
"Mus' be real loud in there," he said. "Eh, that's why there are no giant rappers.  
  
Some of us get stuck rhymin' CAT."  
  
"At, bat, fat, gat, hat-"  
  
"Uh...yeh see? What comes after H?"  
  
"Think about it," Dumbledore said. "You know. I know how hard you worked."  
  
"I. Yeah. I...J...K. Kat? Nah. M...mat. Yeah, Mat. Mathew, with one T. Nat, short fer  
  
Nathaniel..."  
  
"Pat, short for Patrick or Patricia."  
  
"Rat," Hagrid said. He frowned. "Peter Pettigrew. Where is ol' Wormtail, anyway?"  
  
"I don't know," Dumbledore said.  
  
"The things I'd like ta do t'him..."  
  
"Never mind him," Dumbledore said. "Although-and this is between you and me, Hagrid-"  
  
"You wanna pulverize 'im too, don't yeh?"  
  
Dumbledore looked into the sky.  
  
"The rat sat atop the vat," he said.  
  
"Vat of acid," Hagrid said.  
  
"Let's not waste the night thinking of him," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I guess yer right. I ain't forgettin' what he did t' Harry, though."  
  
"Neither have I," Dumbledore said. "I dream about it."  
  
"Do yeh blame yerself?"  
  
"Sometimes I wonder what I could have done," Dumbledore said. "Hagrid, what kind  
  
of a guardian am I? I'm his GRANDFATHER and-"  
  
"And yer the best damn grandfather anybody ever had. If yeh dispute that, I'll  
  
kick yer ass. Yeh know he woulda been in more danger. Yeh both woulda been targets.  
  
Yeh did everythin' you could do," Hagrid said. "Short of tellin' Harry the whole  
  
story about 'im bein' the last Gryffindor and yer grandson, yeh know? Yeh woulda  
  
laughed if yeh heard me, I told 'im parts of it're a great mystery. I hadda tell 'im  
  
SOMETHIN'. I didn' like lyin' to 'im."  
  
"I know you love him like a son, Hagrid. Unfortunately, that puts you in harm's way."  
  
"And I ain't steppin' out," Hagrid said. "I'm with yeh all the way."  
  
"And there's no way you could ever kick my-"  
  
"Yeh know I'd never hurt yeh, sir, dontcha?"  
  
"I know, Hagrid." Dumbledore said. "I know."  
  
Neither of them spoke for awhile. They walked past houses lit by the warm  
  
glow of television, or candlelit dinners. The moon was bright, not quite full.  
  
"Can't imagine livin' in this town," Hagrid said.  
  
"You seem quite comfortable here."  
  
"In a house, I mean. But yeah. I like it here. Nobody's lookin' at me strange, here,  
  
like I'm a freak, or somethin'."  
  
"I told Harry this, and I'll tell you. If you are a freak, then so am I, Hagrid."  
  
"Then I'm damned proud to be a freak," Hagrid said, with a grin.  
  
"You're absolutely one of the most normal people I know. You're wonderful with  
  
animals, and with the children."  
  
"Sometimes there ain't a difference," Hagrid said, and that made Dumbledore laugh.  
  
---  
  
"Do you ever regret not graduating?"  
  
"Snape asked me the same question."  
  
"Did he."  
  
"Yeah. I got no regrets."  
  
"I'm glad. If there was a way-"  
  
"-yeah, yeh'd have found it. I ain't mad. I like my life, sir. It's..."  
  
"Satisfying?"  
  
"Satisfyin', yeah. Hey...what d'yeh call a guy with no arms an' legs, floatin' in the  
  
lake?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Bob."  
  
They both had to stop for that one.  
  
"All right, then..." Dumbledore said. "A warlock walks into a bar with a frog on  
  
his head. The bartender-"  
  
"-Tom."  
  
"All right, we'll assume it's the Leaky Cauldron, and Tom is the bartender."  
  
"'E just had a nasty case 'a ringworm, did yeh know that?"  
  
"Did he really?"  
  
"Oh yeah. Contagious as hell, yeh know?"  
  
"Well, that's terrible, but-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, keep on wi' the joke."  
  
"A warlock walks into the Leaky Cauldron with a frog on his head. Tom looks at him  
  
and says "Something wrong?" and the frog says "Get this guy off my arse."  
  
Hagrid laughed so much, his sides began to hurt.  
  
---  
  
The park seemed empty, except for the two of them.  
  
Of course, there were the ducks.  
  
"What was yer dad like?"  
  
"My father was a great man. For a while, I considered following in his footsteps."  
  
"What'd he do?"  
  
"He made a living performing magic at children's birthday parties."  
  
"Did 'e?"  
  
"Oh, yes. He liked making them laugh. Then, sometime in the '60s-"  
  
"Was this 1860 or 1960?"  
  
"Twentieth century, Hagrid, I'm only a hundred and fifty-six. One of his balloon animals became self-aware and tried to  
  
eat a little girl-"  
  
("Get it off me! GET IT AAAWWWWFFFF-")  
  
"He was devastated, and dropped out of society as a whole. We were still quite proud  
  
of him."  
  
"We?"  
  
"My brother and I."  
  
"What about yer mother?"  
  
"My mother, well...she died when I was a boy...Hagrid, my mother was an amazing woman."  
  
"Ehhhxcellent."  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Oh. Uh, sorry, sir. Jus' somethin' I picked up from that Burns fella."  
  
"This place has made its mark on us all, I think."  
  
"Sir...are we gonna hafta wipe their memories?"  
  
"We might," Dumbledore said. "But I don't think so. None of these people  
  
want to exploit us, or reveal us to the world. This whole week has brought  
  
our worlds closer together, Hagrid."  
  
One of the ducks quacked.  
  
"Ever try feedin' one of those things?"  
  
"Just once," Dumbledore said.  
  
"It tried eatin' your fingers, didn' it?"  
  
"Mmm, yes, it tried."  
  
"Vicious little buggers, ducks. I've seen 'em fight over territory. S'like watchin'  
  
wrestling. Yeh ever watch wrestling, sir?"  
  
"I've seen a few matches. Today, it's rather unpleasant, but I remember Ed  
  
"Strangler" Lewis and Frank Gotch...wrestling's not a wizard's sport, though."  
  
"I remember a guy named Andre The Giant."  
  
"You made him look small."  
  
----  
  
Downtown seemed deserted.  
  
A discarded newspaper blew across the street.  
  
All the stores were dark, their wares shadow promises.  
  
"Where is everybody?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Probably at home," Dumbledore said.  
  
-and then, just as he thought there'd be nothing to do-  
  
"Have you ever gone bowling?"  
  
"Bowling?"  
  
Across the street: the Springfield Bowl-A-Rama.  
  
"One of my favorite things," Dumbledore said. "Come on, Hagrid, I'll teach you."  
  
"All righ', let's go."  
  
---  
  
Hagrid had never seen the inside of a bowling alley before. The lights were so...he  
  
searched for a word and came up with FUZZY. There were people here, though. He recognized  
  
no one.  
  
"I have a taste for a vanilla milkshake," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Never tried that before," Hagrid said.  
  
"Would you like one?"  
  
"I, uh...ain't got money-"  
  
Dumbledore waved him off. "Don't worry about it."  
  
He nodded to the girl behind the counter. "Two vanilla milkshakes, my dear."  
  
"Three bucks," she said.  
  
Dumbledore handed her a five. "You may keep the change."  
  
"Hell yeah," the girl said.  
  
Dumbledore turned to Hagrid.  
  
"Be with you in a moment," he said.  
----------  
  
He found Hagrid by the video games, his attention on a game called TEKKEN.  
  
"Far as I can tell, none of the people in this one like each other much," he said.  
  
Dumbledore watched a muscular blonde woman stomp on another character's head.  
  
"Well, that's an understatement," Dumbledore said. "Come, Hagrid, I'll teach  
  
you the finer points of the game."  
  
They walked towards the alleys.  
  
"I ain't the best at figurin' things out," Hagrid said.  
  
"But you're not stupid by any means, Hagrid. In fact, I think you're the  
  
best of us all."  
  
"Yeh do?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"Well...thank yeh, sir, that means a lot, comin' from you."  
  
Dumbledore handed him a milkshake.  
-----  
  
"Now then, you take this ball," Dumbledore said. "Notice the holes."  
  
"Those are kinda small."  
  
Dumbledore looked down at Hagrid's hands.  
  
"Oh," he said. "Right...well, you can just grip the ball. Then you take the ball,  
  
advance towards the alley-" Hagrid watched him do that-"and RELEASE."  
  
The ball rocketed towards the pins at the end of the alley.  
  
Every one of them went down.  
  
Dumbledore pumped his fist. "Yessss..." and then he turned to Hagrid, regaining his composure.  
  
"That is called a strike," he said.  
  
"Looks simple enough," Hagrid said. "My turn?"  
  
"Your turn," he said.  
  
Hagrid took several giant steps and, grunting, threw the ball overhand at an unspeakable  
  
velocity, and Dumbledore felt his jaw drop.  
  
Every one of the pins shattered.  
  
"Now, that's as down as they're gonna get," he said.  
  
Dumbledore sat down.  
  
(Not bad for a beginner.)  
  
"Professor Dumbledore..."  
  
Dumbledore looked up to see Celeste Sinistra and Filius Flitwick, advancing.  
  
"Good evening, Professor Sinistra. Filius. Sit down, won't you?"  
  
They slid into the booth. "Headmaster," she said, "I'm glad we ran into you-"  
  
"What's happened?"  
  
"Well, you know about Potter's date with Angelina Johnson on Saturday, right?"  
  
"By now, the whole school knows."  
  
"We overheard some of the Slytherins plotting to ruin it. Draco Malfoy, Millicent  
  
Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson-they're going to try and sabotage the date."  
  
"Can't let that happen," Hagrid said.  
  
"I quite agree," Dumbledore said, "But-"  
  
"But? But WHAT?" A second passed. "...sir."  
  
"It wouldn't be fair to Harry," Dumbledore said. "He's going on a date, and of  
  
course, I want him to have a wonderful time-"  
  
(send in the bloody MARINES, if that's what it takes)  
  
"Bugger that, sir, we all know you love him."  
  
"Professor Sinistra-"  
  
(now trail off, because you know it's true)  
  
"...we know that because WE love him too, with a few exceptions I don't need to name."  
  
"It wouldn't be fair to cheapen his life experiences. But yes, I do agree that Harry  
  
has quite enough problems. Someone must put a stop to this plot, and I know just the  
  
people for the job. If you'll excuse me a moment."  
  
He got up from the table and Disapparated.  
  
----  
  
"-went and saw those LORD OF THE RINGS movies. You know, they don't build movie  
  
theatres for people like me. I had to sit in a high chair. But I remember every  
  
line-" Flitwick cleared his throat. "You broke my heart, Frodo. You broke my heart."  
  
Sinistra clapped.  
  
"I liked it so much, I looked into that Jackson fellow's other films. You wouldn't  
  
believe the-"  
  
He looked over at Hagrid, who was sucking milkshake remnants from his straw.  
  
"Hagrid?"  
  
"Yeah, Professor Flitwick?"  
  
"Filius, Hagrid."  
  
"Filius, I mean."  
  
"What's your favorite movie?"  
  
"I ain't seen many," Hagrid said. "Those seats ain't made for someone like me...but  
  
I did see this one...about a guy who loved animals...he was like an animal himself,  
  
really. It was called something something PET DETECTIVE."  
  
Sinistra put a hand over her mouth, failing to hold in the laughter.  
  
Dumbledore finally came back.  
  
"Did you take care of it?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Professor," Sinistra asked. "What's your favorite movie?"  
  
"I can't pick just one. What's yours, Celeste?"  
  
"Probably CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND."  
  
-----  
  
TEN MINUTES LATER  
  
The doors blew open. If there was one thing Fred and George Weasley were good  
  
at, it was making an entrance. They had brought several people with them. One was Lee Jordan, he of the radio-ready voice and bouncing dreadlocks, and an  
  
sixth-year Gryffindor named Kasha Taussan, who happened to be a prince. Dumbledore  
  
did not have all the details, but apparently Harry had saved the boy's life.  
  
The irony was not lost on Dumbledore; last year he had told Harry that he was  
  
normal as possible and not "a pampered little prince." When he recieved word that  
  
royalty would be attending Hogwarts, he'd steeled himself for what he thought  
  
would come. Rules. Bodyguards. Harry being tested yet again. But Sassan was not a pampered  
  
little prince. His family was at war, and he was in the middle. He had been rather rigid,  
  
at the start...and then Harry introduced him to Fred and George.  
  
"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Taussan. I trust the family emergency is over?"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir...I'll make up all the work I missed."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"My brother locked my father in the trunk of his car, and went for a drive."  
  
"I can sympathize," Dumbledore said. "I have a brother, myself."  
  
"He's tried to poison me, and steal my identity, and have me kidnapped, and-"  
  
"How does he get away with so much?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Sir...he's six years old."  
  
George saluted. "You wanted to see us, sir?"  
  
"I certainly do, Gred."  
  
George and Fred both smiled.  
  
Then, Dumbledore gave them all the information.  
  
"You can count on us, sir," Fred said.  
  
"We'll be invisible," George said.  
  
"Stealthy."  
  
"Cunning."  
  
"Thank you, boys."  
  
"If they try anything, we'll be on them."  
  
"On them like what?" Lee asked.  
  
"Like...I don't know..."  
  
"Like you on lunch," Taussan said.  
  
Lee laughed, and punched his shoulder.  
  
Taussan gleefully punched him right back.  
  
"We'll do anything for Harry," Fred said.  
  
"I know," Dumbledore said. ""We are the teachers and friends-"  
  
"And family," said Fred.  
  
"-and family, thank you Forge-"  
  
Fred grinned.  
  
"-of a deeply traumatized young man."  
  
"Would you like us to tell Ron and Hermione about this, sir?" George asked.  
  
"Feel free to tell them. Their help would be invaluable."  
  
"Right," Fred said.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "The only one who can spoil Harry's date now..."  
  
"'s Harry himself," Hagrid said.  
  
"Oh...by the way, Hagrid...I must ask you to stay away from Springfield Elementary tomorrow."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He asked it like a curious child.  
  
"Because Dudley Dursley will be there."  
  
"Big D, huh?" Fred asked.  
  
"Big D, yes..." and he told them all about THAT. By the end, Hagrid was holding his sides, which hurt from laughing  
  
so much.  
  
"I'll find somethin' ta do," he said.  
  
-----  
  
There were people outside now.  
  
"Hey, kid," said a nervous-looking man. "Ol' Gil doesn't have insurance, so could ya-"  
  
"Excuse me," Dumbledore said. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Yeah, there are KIDS on top of my store-"  
  
Dumbledore looked, and saw that the kids were none other than Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom.  
  
Dean stood on the edge of the building, and Neville sat on the edge, his legs dangling over.  
  
"Mr. Thomas. Mr. Longbottom." Dumbledore said. "What are you doing up there?"  
  
Dean smiled, plenty embarrassed. There seemed to be a drawing pallet in his hands. "Sorry,  
  
sir. I'm almost done. I promised that guy a copy, ask him."  
  
Dumbledore turned to the store owner, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, all RIGHT," the owner said. "But they better get down safely."  
  
"I assure you, they will."  
  
It took maybe a second to Apparate onto the rooftop.  
  
Dumbledore joined Dean and Neville.  
  
He marveled at the nightscape Dean had drawn.  
  
"Mr. Thomas, that is amazing."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
He held up another picture-  
  
-which was moving.  
  
"This one's a group portrait. This is me, and Seamus-"  
  
"-and me-" Neville said.  
  
"And there's Ron," Dumbledore said. "And Colin and Harry and Lee."  
  
(Never was there a finer group of young men)  
  
"Dean...may I hang this in my office?"  
  
"Yeah," Dean said, and smiled.  
  
"Superb. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Neville?"  
  
"Me?" Neville asked.  
  
"I'm gone," Dean said.  
  
He stepped off the side of the building.  
  
For a moment, he hung in the air, and then levitated down to the sidewalk.  
  
"He's getting good at that," Neville said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. Then he sat down beside Neville.  
  
"Is it about my mom and dad?" Neville asked.  
  
"Neville, if there were any news about them..."  
  
Neville hung his head.  
  
"I do have some stories about them I think you ought to hear," Dumbledore said.  
  
Neville brightened. "Really?"  
  
"Really. How about if we meet in the Gryffindor common room sometime tomorrow? I'll  
  
come armed with milk and chocolate chip cookies."  
  
"When?"  
  
"When would be best for you?"  
  
"Well...Friday, I..." He paused. "I remember my schedule exactly."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yeah...sir?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Eventually, I have to give these abilities back, don't I?"  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "You do. But, Neville-"  
  
"-I'll just go back to being me again."  
  
"Who would you rather be?"  
  
Neville looked at him, his eyes wide open.  
  
"I don't know...I'd rather be me than somebody else, I guess."  
  
"Well, Mr. Longbottom, that's quite introspective of you."  
  
Dumbledore fell silent.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"You're all growing up so quickly," Dumbledore said. "Particularly you, Neville. Especially now, in a difficult time.  
  
I'm...proud of you."  
  
"Oh. Well...thank you, sir."  
  
"There's something you need to know, Neville."  
  
"Oh, great. Is it something bad?"  
  
"It depends on your point of view."  
  
"Am I dying? How long do I have to live?"  
  
"You aren't dying."  
  
"All right, then...what do you have to tell me?"  
  
"Believe me, Neville, I asked myself if you'd be better off not knowing, but I think you ought to know."  
  
"Is my Gran dying?"  
  
"Nobody's dying," Dumbledore said.  
  
-and for the third time that evening, he had a long monologue that you can probably hear in your head, this time about  
  
Neville sharing Harry's birthday and the prophecy and anything else pertaining to it, which will not be drawn out because  
  
this author's brains have turned to mush.  
  
Neville listened. When Dumbledore finished, he sat there with Neville, looking up at the stars.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Can I tell you something?"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Sir...I have a scar."  
  
Dumbledore felt his heart skip a beat.  
  
"You do?"  
  
"On the bottom of my foot. My uncle Algie-"  
  
"Ah, yes...your uncle Algernon. I've met him."  
  
"You have?"  
  
"Once. Believe me, once was enough."  
  
Neville smiled. "You don't like him either."  
  
"There are very few people I genuinely dislike, Neville. I don't wish to cast  
  
aspersions on your family, but..."  
  
"He threw me off a pier to see if I had any magical ability. He said he wanted to  
  
see if I could float. My foot got cut open, on a piece of wood, and-"  
  
He took his shoe and sock off.  
  
There was a long thin trench stretching from the heel of his foot up to the arch.  
  
------  
  
This time, McGonagall opened the door.  
  
"Pardon me, Minerva," Dumbledore said.  
  
He paused to look in on Harry. The boy was asleep. His lips were moving.  
  
"....mmmrrf, but I want a hrrmffzz..."  
  
Dumbledore put a hand against Harry's head.  
  
Then he straightened and headed upstairs, because the milkshake had gone right through him.  
  
"Did you have a good time?" she asked Hagrid.  
  
"Oh, uh-" Hagrid looked away from Harry. "Yeah."  
  
She looked up at him and tried to smile.  
  
"Somethin' wrong, Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"Hagrid, I-" she sat down.  
  
"What?" Hagrid asked, taking her hand. "Tell me."  
  
She put a hand against his cheek.  
  
"I know how you feel," she said.  
  
"Do yeh?"  
  
"You told me. In a reality that no longer exists. You see, I used a Time-Turner."  
  
"Yeh did?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Because I told yeh-"  
  
"No. No, Hagrid, that's not why. I-"  
  
"Did yeh use it ta save me?"  
  
"I used it to-"  
  
She paused, and Hagrid figured she'd saved way more than just him.  
  
"Yes," she said. "To save you."  
  
"How, uh...how'd I die?"  
  
"Blood loss, I suppose."  
  
"Then that's twice over I owe yeh."  
  
He kissed her hand.  
  
"Guess yer my guardian angel."  
  
-"I'm no angel," she said and he turned his head and kissed her until their tongues were involved and  
  
in moments she was bouncing up and down on his-  
  
"I love yeh," he said. "I love-"  
  
"You love Albus, too. I know that. He knows that."  
  
Hagrid nodded.  
  
Dumbledore came back downstairs.  
  
"I feel lighter," he said.  
  
"Good to know," McGonagall said.  
  
They gathered around Harry.  
  
god i'm a hack 


	51. A Brief Meltdown

51.  
A BRIEF MELTDOWN  
  
I sat there in the cluttered writing room and slapped myself across the face. I glanced out the window. Some guy was going through our trash. I didn't care.  
"Oh, God," I moaned. "This is awful. What am I doing? I've lost it. 'The Keeper Exchange' is as good as dead. I don't-"  
Fingers closed over my shoulder. I looked up to see Albus Dumbledore smiling down at me.  
"You can't be here," I said.  
"I may not be indigenous to this reality, but I assure you I can," he said.  
"Well...what is it? Are you here to get me to stop?"  
"On the contrary, I came here to tell you to keep writing."  
"But chapter 50 was horrible."  
"It was just fine," Dumbledore said.  
"It was?"  
"Yes, it was. You can't stop, Ed. You're the only one who can tell this story. You knew it would be a daunting task when you started, and you've risen to the challenge."  
"It doesn't smack of hackwork?"  
"It's absolutely captivating. And damned hilarious. You simply must continue; the world cannot have enough laughter."  
"But I was going through their favorite movies-"  
"Well, come on, we may be wizards, but even wizards love the cinema. We go on staff outings to films, sometimes, if they seem like they must be seen."  
I looked at the empty screen.  
"I have to finish this story," I said.  
"That's the spirit."  
"One question."  
"Just one?"  
"'The Keeper Exchange...'has it already happened?"  
"It has," Dumbledore said. "And now you are the conduit by which it must be told."  
"Some conduit."  
"All you have to do is find the words," Dumbledore said. "The story will fall into place."  
"But you know what happens, on the rest of Thursday and Friday and-"  
"So do you," Dumbledore said. "What's going to happen?"  
He just smiled-  
-and then he was gone. 


	52. Herman

These characters do not belong to me, they are the property of J.K. Rowling and Matt Groening. This chapter is pretty nasty, but I swear things will get funnier...I have a poem up at Decompositions, so check that out...  
  
51.  
HERMAN  
  
Voldemort arched his back and screamed.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Artie asked.  
  
"You bloody Muggle idiot, if I knew that-"  
  
"Lucius, shut up," Voldemort gasped. He had retreated into the fetal position.  
  
Lucius half expected him to suck his thumb.  
  
"Master, I-"  
  
With what strength he had, Voldemort sat up and pointed his wand at Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Artie, have you ever told anyone 'Pull your lip over your head and swallow?'"  
  
"That one's beneath me," Artie said.  
  
"Well, if Lucius says one more word, I'm going to make him do exactly that."  
  
Nott turned away from the window. He wore an eyepatch over one eye; he looked  
  
like the world's most ineffectual pirate.  
  
"Are you in pain, master?" he asked.  
  
"Considerable pain, Nott," and he smirked. "But I look better than you do."  
  
Sprawled in an easy chair, Narcissa burped.  
  
"Again?" Nott asked. "As if she still needs an excuse."  
  
"What did you say, Nott?" Malfoy asked.  
  
"He intimated that your wife's a whore-"  
  
Malfoy turned-  
  
"-And she bloody well is."  
  
Trevor Crabbe stood in the doorway; he was a grownup version of his son; a pasty  
  
lump of nasty vacuity.  
  
"I don't think there's anyone in this room who hasn't had your wife, Lucius."  
  
Voldemort coughed.  
  
Lucius whirled around.  
  
"You, too?"  
  
Narcissa cackled.  
  
"Come now, Lucius...after what happened in the Ministry last year...who do you suppose was the first to comfort me? If  
  
all the other Death Eaters got on their knees as quickly as your wife did-"  
  
"I would have thought...Bella." Nott said.  
  
"How do you think I punished her?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"STOP," Lucius yelled. "I can't LISTEN to this anymore-"  
  
"Are you telling ME what to do, Lucius?"  
  
"No. No, I-"  
  
"You're all going to follow Lucius and turn on me, sooner or later. Don't think  
  
I don't know that."  
  
"My Lord, we would never-"  
  
"Nott, stop talking," Voldemort said. "You're all a bunch of bloody incompetents."  
  
Nott looked at Lucius.  
  
"That's it," Lucius said. "My Lord-"  
  
"Don't call me that, you ingrate. As of now-"  
  
"I will prove myself worthy," Lucius said.  
  
Voldemort was silent for a moment.  
  
"Prove yourself?"  
  
"Yes. Yes, I will."  
  
"And you thought you could forsake me."  
  
"But now I know that's impossible."  
  
"Of course it is," Voldemort said. "Now go prove yourself worthy of being a Death Eater,  
  
Lucius. I suggest something extraordinary. Take Nott and Crabbe and this-" he tossed a  
  
thumb at Artie-"with you."  
  
"What about you, my Lord?"  
  
"Your wife will attend to me."  
  
Lucius nearly said something; words simmered, but he clenched his jaw nearly as hard as  
  
he did his fists.  
  
"As you wish, my Lord."  
  
Nott kept looking over at Lucius, with an unbearable grin on his face.  
  
"What?" Lucius asked.  
  
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"  
  
"Thinking of what?"  
  
"Whether or not I-" Nott giggled.  
  
"I don't care what you did to my wife," Lucius said.  
  
"It's what she did to him, you should be concerned about," Crabbe said.  
  
"Shut up," Nott said. "You got a piece of her, same as I did. In fact, Lucius,  
  
I think you ought to know we double-teamed her while you were sitting in Azkaban,  
  
being psychologically rogered by the Dementors-" and that was all Lucius could take.  
  
He pounced on Nott, knocking him to the pavement. Nott cried out, swearing at Lucius,  
  
throwing an elbow that caught Lucius under the chin. Lucius fell backwards-"Hey," Artie  
  
yelled, as Lucius regained his balance and ran straight into Crabbe, trying in vain to  
  
shield Nott. "Don't hold me back, Crabbe," Lucius hissed, and Crabbe shoved him backwards.  
  
Lucius pointed his wand at Crabbe-  
  
"What are you going to do, Lucius?" Crabbe asked. "Kill me?"  
  
"I should. I should kill you right here, Crabbe. I-"  
  
Lucius's arm began to shake. To the amazement of everyone, Lucius Malfoy's legs gave  
  
out, and he fell to the street in a heap, moaning for want of tears.  
  
"Oh, great." Artie said.  
  
"Shut up," Nott said. He and Crabbe went to Lucius.  
  
"I can't take this anymore," Malfoy said.  
  
"Hey, mate, listen, you don't-"  
  
His voice rising, near hysteria, Malfoy said "I had a home. I had a family. I had...I  
  
had EVERYTHING and they took it away from me. That BASTARD back there, he's DYING and  
  
we follow him, we're afraid to say his name. It's a STUPID name. Voldemort. Voldemort.  
  
Voldemort, Voldemort, VOLDEMORT-"  
  
"STUPEFY."  
  
Energy crackled through Malfoy, and everything went black.  
  
Lucius groaned.  
  
"Evening, Lucius," Nott said.  
  
"Ugh," Malfoy said, testing his head with a few fingers. "My head's killing me."  
  
"You took a nasty spill off the curb, there. Remember?"  
  
"No...the last thing I remember...I said I'd prove myself worthy of being a Death Eater,  
  
and the rest-"  
  
"Well, at least your mind is clear."  
  
"Mmmm," Malfoy said. "Have you three come up with a plan?"  
  
"Not a thing," Artie said.  
  
"I figured you wouldn't," Lucius said.  
  
"It must be something big," Nott said.  
  
"Nott?" Crabbe asked.  
  
"Yeah, what?"  
  
"How's your depth perception?"  
  
"Why?" Nott asked. "Are you going to throw something at me?"  
  
"Just asking," Crabbe asked. "You never know, I might be concerned about your well-being."  
  
Nott looked at Crabbe, and they both laughed like idiots.  
  
"Well," Lucius said. "I think it's a foregone conclusion that we must deliver Ralph  
  
Wiggum to Lord Voldemort. And therefore, his parents must be...terminated. As will anyone  
  
who stand in our way."  
  
"That'll be a schoolful of people. The boy's teachers and friends, and don't forget..."  
  
"I know," Lucius said. "The usual suspects."  
  
"We're the usual suspects, Lucius."  
  
"Yes, well..."  
  
"Guns," Lucius said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We're going to need guns."  
  
"Guns? Why do we need guns?"  
  
"Oh my God," Artie said. "It'll be just like what happened at that school in Russia. Listen,  
  
I'm out of this plan right now. I'm-"  
  
Malfoy pointed his wand at Artie Ziff.  
  
"-with you guys all the way."  
  
"Do you know a place where we can get lots of guns, Ziff?"  
  
Ziff felt his spine melt.  
  
"...yeah. I...I know a place."  
  
Herman pressed the Glock against his temple and pulled the trigger.  
  
He imagined what the recoil would've been like, had the thing been loaded.  
  
"Brains and blood all over the place," he said.  
  
"Hey," the clerk said, "I keep warning you, no testing out the merchandise before you buy."  
  
"I think I'd like to buy this one," Herman said. He gave the firearm to the clerk.  
  
"You know the drill," he said. "Three-"  
  
He was interrupted by the bell as the door rang.  
  
Herman recognized Artie Ziff; he had never met the man. They traveled in different social circles. He didn't know  
  
the guys with him-a scowling blond man with an aristocratic sneer, a short, fat customer with a pudgy face and the  
  
last man wore an eyepatch. The three of them were clad in identical black robes.  
  
"What are you guys?" the clerk asked. "Monks?"  
  
"We want guns," Ziff said.  
  
"Well, gee, I guess you're in the right place."  
  
"Excuse me," Herman said. He made his way out the door.  
  
On the way out of Bloodbath And Beyond, fuming, Lucius almost missed the man. He reminded Lucius of Alastor Moody, only  
  
this man was missing an arm. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair thinning but ratty. He looked very, very angry about something. A cigarette hung from his mouth, like a fractured limb.  
  
"No luck with the guns?" he asked.  
  
"He said it was a three-day waiting period," Lucius said.  
  
"We don't have three days," said Nott.  
  
"I got what you need," said the man. His voice sounded strangely nasal. "Better than guns."  
  
"Better than guns?"  
  
"I'll teach you how to make napalm," Herman said.  
  
"...napalm?" 


	53. Harry And God

52.  
HARRY AND GOD

Harry opened his eyes, and found himself sitting next to...well, he couldn't quite see a face.

"Hello, Harry."

The voice seemed as big as the universe.

"Uh...hi. Listen-"

He looked around and saw nothing, just a void.

"Relax, this is a dream," said the figure next to him. Harry felt a feeling of such peace radiating from the figure. It

was a feeling he only encountered being around Dumbledore. But this wasn't Dumbledore.

"Who are you?"

"God," said God.

"You're God?"

"I am."

Harry frowned.

"What do you want, identfication?"

"No," Harry said. "It's my dream, so...welcome to my subconscious, I guess."

"Thank you, Harry."

"So what are you doing here?"

"Well, Harry, I'll be short and to the point and charge you with a holy crusade."

"A crusade? Me? But I'm already-"

"Yes, yes, don't worry about that. The crusade and the prophecy are one and the same."

"You want me to kill Voldemort?"

"That's it exactly."

"But...look, that's murder and I don't know how-"

"You hypocrite. You killed the Basilisk. You turned its brain to coleslaw with that sword, and you have a problem

killing Tom Riddle? They'll give you a bloody ticker-tape parade up and down Diagon Alley. Do you know how many

people he's murdered, how many families are forever rent because of him-"

"You're not God. I don't believe God would ask me to do anything like that. You're supposed to be loving and-"

God sighed.

"You aren't familiar with the Old Testament, are you?"

"Well-"

"Harry, I know you must be angry with me, for all the terrible things that have happened to you. But there are

wonderful things in store, I swear. Voldemort, Tom Riddle, must die. The wheels are already in motion."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll find out."

He began to disappear.

"Wait, I have more questions-" Harry said-

-and woke up on the couch, in the Simpsons' dark living room.

Hagrid was sleeping nearby. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were close, too. Dumbledore had actually

wrapped his arm around McGonagall's waist.

"I'm on a mission from God," Harry whispered. 


	54. Breakfast

52.

BREAKFAST

None of these characters belong to me, of course. They are the property of J. K. Rowling. On the writing front, my story "The Way" was accepted to an antho called MIND SCRAPS. Wicked Karnival #2 is up, featuring my story "Santa's Slay." Just Google it. The song Homer mangles in this chapter is actually Metallica's "One" and the proper lyric is "Tied to machines that make me be."

Friday

Lisa came down to find the kitchen busy. Mom and Hagrid were washing dishes. Hagrid was saying "-havin' yer own set

of wings-" and smiled at Lisa when he saw her, his eyes alight. Harry stood at the stove, cooking. Professor McGonagall

was reading a book called FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM, by somebody named Newt Scamander.

"Good morning, Lisa," Professor Dumbledore said. "Did you sleep well?"

"I had the strangest dream," Lisa said.

"Did you?"

"Oh, yeah...are you good at dream interpretation?"

"I have some practice at it. I hope it wasn't a nightmare."

"No...it wasn't really a nightmare...it wasn't a nice dream, either, it was just...weird."

"Oh, but, Lisa, don't you realize what that means?"

"What do you mean?"

"The word WEIRD. Are you familiar with MACBETH, Lisa?"

"Fair is foul, and foul is fair..." said Professor McGonagall.

"The Weird Sisters?" Lisa asked, grinning.

"Exactly, child, the Weird Sisters. Or, as I'm saying, wyrd. W-Y-R-D."

"What's that?" Mrs. Simpson asked.

"Threads of one's fate," Dumbledore said. "Lisa, if you truly had a 'wyrd' dream-"

"Then I dreamed about my own fate," Lisa said.

"Here you go, Lisa," Harry said, handing her a plate of syrupy pancakes.

"I told Harry you were a vegetarian," Mom said.

"Thank you, Harry," she said.

Harry smiled and sat down at the table.

Lisa couldn't help staring.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.

"It's just that...Bart usually sits there."

On cue, Bart appeared in the doorway, accompanied by two people: Fred and George Weasley.

"Morning, my fellow magicians," Bart said. He looked at Lisa. "Not to mention the less magically inclined."

"Now, Bart-"

"Be right down," Bart said, and raced upstairs.

"Bart needs something from his room," Fred said.

"May I present Fred and George Weasley, " Dumbledore said. "Fred, George, this is Mrs. Simpson-"

"You're Bart's mother, then?" George asked.

"I hope he's behaving," Marge said.

"We've taken him under our wings," Fred said.

"That's a frightening thought," McGonagall said.

"Isn't it?" George asked.

"Terrifying," Dumbledore said, with a smile.

"What's that you're reading, Professor?" Fred asked.

"The latest edition of FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM, Fred."

"I'm Fred," said George.

"No, you're not," McGonagall said.

"Is that the latest edition?"

He wrangled the book from Professor McGonagall.

"Why is Bart the only one with psychic powers?" Lisa asked.

Professor McGonagall turned to Lisa. "Well, I'm sure you've excelled at everything else," she said.

George put the book back on the table, and looked towards the stairs.

"We're going to be late," he said.

"I'll get him," Dumbledore said. "Breakfast was very filling, Harry."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said.

Dumbledore stood up, and pushed in his chair.

As he did, the doorbell rang.

"Shall I get that, too?" he asked.

"I'll get it," Lisa said.

She and Dumbledore left together.

Lisa opened the door.

Lisa disliked the woman on sight.

She said "Well, hello, little girl," and Lisa's opinion of her sunk even lower.

"Ah, hello, Rita," Dumbledore said.

Lisa just picked up the tone of Dumbledore's voice, as if he were saying SCREW YOU instead of HELLO.

"Lisa, this is Rita Skeeter. Rita, this is Lisa Simpson. I trust you'll be a gracious hostess, Lisa?"

(spit in her coffee, smear glue on her chair, and kick her in the arse!)

"Sure," Lisa said.

"Would you like some breakfast, Rita?"

"I've eaten," Rita Skeeter said. "Where's Potter?"

"Lisa, if you'd be so kind-"

Lisa led her into the kitchen.

----

Dumbledore could hear singing over the roar of the shower.

"-tied to machiiines that maaaake meee bee-eee-eeerr..."

He raised his eyebrows, and turned towards Bart's room.

The door was ajar.

He knocked. "Bart?"

"Be right out," Bart said.

"Do you need assistance?"

"No..."

Dumbledore waited a moment.

Then he nudged the door open.

The first thing he noticed was the mess on the bed. Well, really, the room was as messy as any ten-year-old's, but there were blank sheets of paper all over the bed.

And, unexpectedly, a compact disc: Twisted Sister's STAY HUNGRY reunion CD.

"Not going to take it anymore, are you, Bart?"

Like one of those Whack-A-Mole games, Bart appeared, popping out from the other side of the bed.

"Hell no, Sir."

"Good to hear. He picked the CD off the bed.

Under it was a some kind of ID card. It read THE COPY JALOPY.

Dumbledore turned the CD case over. "Hmmm...haven't heard some of these in years, Bart...like "Burn In Hell."

He thought he heard Bart gulp.

"A heavy metal song against going to hell...you know, I find that refreshing."

"Um, yeah, so do I, sir. Here it is."

He stood up, now armed with-

"A slingshot," Dumbledore said. "Now that takes me back. I'm not going to ask why you need it..."

"Thanks," said Bart.

"I trust you've eaten?"

"Oh...yeah. You know, I tried some haggis last night?"

"I never could develop a taste for haggis."

"It looked a lot cooler than it tasted."

Dumbledore couldn't help grinning.

"Better hurry, Bart. You don't want to be late for Charms."

"How do you-"

"I've been headmaster of Hogwarts long enough to know the schedules, Bart."

"Cool, man." Bart said. "Smell ya later."

Dumbledore got out of his way, and Bart ran downstairs.

Homer ran into Professor Dumbledore on the way downstairs.

He still looked like the lost member of ZZ Top.

Homer wondered what Dumbledore would look like without a beard.

"Good morning, Homer."

"Oh, hey, Professor."

"Breakfast is on, downstairs. Harry cooked it himself, so don't hesitate to tuck in."

"Tuck in?"

"Eat, Homer, eat."

"Oh, yeah. Y'know, we went to England, and they had the weirdest...ways of saying...stuff."

"I'm sure it took some getting used to."

Homer sniffed the air. "What's that smell? It never smells that good downstairs, this early."

"Pancakes."

"Mmmm...paaancaaakes."

"Rita, is that a notebook?"

Rita scowled.

"My usual accessories aren't working properly."

"So does that mean," McGonagall gasped theatrically, the bitch. "Does that mean, you'll have to write everything down, as Harry says it-"

"Iinstead 'a makin' things up as you go along?" Hagrid asked.

She spun on the hairy half-human.

"How dare you accuse me of lying, I'm a PROFESSIONAL."

"I'd never dream of accusin' YOU of lyin', Rita." Hagrid said.

"A professional, my arse," McGonagall muttered.

"What was that, Professor McGonagall?"

"Nothing," she said. "And you may quote me."

Lisa giggled. Harry shared a grin with Mrs. Simpson.

"Watch it," said Rita,

"Oh, Rita...bugger off."

-and Rita Skeeter's eyes flew wide open.

Before she could say another word, Homer Simpson walked into the kitchen, Dumbledore behind him.

"Did Bart get on?" Dumbledore asked.

"They just left," McGonagall said.

"Ehhhxcellent," Dumbledore said.

"When did you meet Mr. Burns?" Marge asked.

"Oh...I haven't," Dumbledore said.

Marge shrugged.

"Well, Potter, are you ready?" Rit asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, getting up from the table.

"You know," she said, "Since I bothered to come here, perhaps I should interview a Muggle."

Behind her, Homer opened a can of Duff.

It exploded in his face.

When he wiped the beer out of his eyes, he saw Rita Skeeter, smiling at him.

For a moment, they were silent.

"Yeh know," Hagrid said, "I think...I think the word is 'owned,' ain't it? Skeeter got OWNED by Professor McGonagall, bigtime."

He touched her shoulder.

"Hope yeh don't mind me stealin' a phrase from Harry, but...BRILLIANT."

"What did you say?" Lisa asked.

"Lisa, Rita Skeeter's an unregistered animagus."

"What's an animagus?"

"One who can assume the form of an animal. I am an example, I can transfigure myself into a cat. Rita can take the form of an insect."

"And here, I was starting to feel better about the media," Lisa said.

"She didn't even eat anything," Marge said.

"I can only imagine what she eats," Professor McGonagall said.

"What do you mean?" Lisa asked.

"Well, do you know what insects eat?"

"Other insects," Hagrid said. "Leaves. Wood. And-oh, yeah-"

"Excrement," Professor McGonagall said. "I'm sure she's eaten plenty."

Lisa choked on her pancake.

And then the door burst open, to reveal Severus Snape.

He looked like he'd been out all night.

"Severus-"

He stalked into the kitchen, and, without looking at anyone, continued into the living room.

Then he returned.

"Where is the lavatory?" he asked.

"Severus-" said Dumbledore

"The what?" Marge asked.

"FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, WOMAN, WHERE IS THE BATHROOM?"

"Severus, really," Dumbledore said. "There is no excuse for being so rude to this fine lady."

"The bathroom," Snape said. "Please."

"Upstairs, the second door on the right," said Marge.

He left in search of the bathroom.

"I must apologize, Marge," Dumbledore said, "I don't know-"

"No, it's all right," Marge said. "I'm sure he had a stressful night."

The five of them-Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Lisa and Marge-waited for Snape to come back.

Finally, he appeared in the doorway again.

"Severus," said Professor McGonagall, "Would you like to-"

"I have a riddle for Potter," Snape said. "If he answers it I'll see to it all his homework for the week is waived."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Now, Severus-"

"Come now, Minerva, there's no way he'll ever find the answer. Not on his own."

"Severus-"

"At least, if not waived, moved to a later date. The riddle-" he paused. "It doesn't rhyme."

"What?"

"The riddle, it isn't up to my usual poetic standards."

"That's all right, let's hear it."

"Fine...what is the one question to which it is impossible to answer 'yes.'?"

Lisa gasped.

"Don't tell him," Snape said.

The phone rang.

Marge got up from the table, and answered it.

She listened, and then said, "Yeah, Selma, he's right here."

Snape frowned.

After a moment more of listening to Selma, so did Marge.

The air between them crackled with a combination of tension and pent-up anger.

Marge hung up with an emphatic finality.

"Get out," she told Snape.

Snape took a step backward.

She advanced on him.

"Get OUT," she bellowed. "Get OUT, GET OUT, GET...OUT..."

Snape found the doorknob.

He opened the door, fell across the threshold, and scrambled to his feet, Marge on his heels.

She watched him run.

"AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU'VE HAD SEX WITH MY SISTER!"

----

The human looked totally lost. Not just geographically so, but uncomfortable around his own species.

(Johnny Cash wants his wardrobe back,) Kang thought.

"I've found one," Kang said to Kodos.

Kodos looked.

"That one, Kang?"

"Yes, Kodos, I think he'll be a perfect subject for our tests."

Shadow descended upon Snape.

He stood still for a moment.

"What's all this, then?" he asked, and then his feet left the ground.

"Lisa, could I possibly persuade you not to go near the school today?"

"You mean, not go to school?" Lisa asked.

"I don't know about that," Mrs. Simpson said.

"Even in the interest of safety?"

"In that case-"

"Perfect," Lisa said. "I'll be at the park," she said, jumping up to leave.

Dumbledore looked at Mrs. Simpson.

"What's that behind your ear?"

"Huh?"

Dumbledore reached behind her ear and pulled out several twenty-dollar bills.

"This should last all day," he said. "Don't spend it in one place."

Marge smiled, "I know exactly what to do with THIS..." and she was out the door.

That left the three of them.

"Well, Hagrid, Dudley knows what you look like."

"Not much point in disguisin' me, is there?"

Dumbledore's mustache twitched.

"I s'pose I'll find somethin' ta do," Hagrid said.

He got up and wandered out the door.

That left the two of them.

"You need to get ready, I suppose," she said.

"Not just yet," he said, taking her hand in his, stroking her palm.

Eventually, he rose from the table.

He looked down at the book on the table in front of her.

'"You don't need that," Dumbledore said. "Yours are perfect."

McGonagall blinked.

She watched him leave.

Then she saw what he meant.

It was the same book. Only the title had been changed-

FANTASTIC BREASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM. 


	55. Dudley And The Sarge

55.  
DUDLEY AND THE SARGE 

These characters belong to J. K. Rowling, the unquestioned Mistress Of The Universe. No writing news right now, but I'm hacking away at the keyboard, of course. Also, I'd like to offer a profound apology to the memory of Stanley Kubrick. 

Harry found Dumbledore in the kitchen, humming to himself.

"There you are, Harry. How was the interview?"

"I think I was honest," Harry said. "I hope I came off well."

"Did she actually write down everything you said?"

"Everything. Sir, I think..."

Dumbledore leaned closer.

"What is it?"

"I think Rita might not spell very well, sir. Not on her own, anyway."

"Really," Dumbledore said. "Sit down, won't you?"

Harry sat down next to Dumbledore.

"As you know," he said, "Your cousin will be at Springfield Elementary all day,

and so will I. It's not going to be pleasant-"

"Don't hurt him," Harry said. "I know he's a murderous git, but-"

Dumbledore sighed.

(but he's FAMILY)

"This is a complicated situation, isn't it?"

Harry looked at the table.

"What's his favorite film?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore again.

"His favorite film?"

"His favorite film, boy, what is it?"

"Well...sometimes when my aunt and uncle go out, his friends bring movies over,

but they're...you know...weird. People puking on each other-"

Dumbledore put his hand over Harry's.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For being his exact opposite. You're a joy to have around, Harry, your teachers

love having you in class."

"They do?"

"Of course they do." Dumbledore paused. "I will not harm Dudley. Unless he tries

to harm me first, of course."

"Of course. If he tries anything, you turn him into a...hmmm..."

Dumbledore smiled. "Can't think of anything harsh enough, can you?"

"Sir...I can't stand him. But I don't...hate him. I don't like him very much,

but-"

"Well, then, what's his favorite film?"

"Well...this one time, after he threw his X Box out the window..." Dumbledore

shook his head-"He put on this movie called FULL METAL JACKET..."

"You'd best sound off that you love the Virgin Mary, or I'm gonna stomp your

guts out!"

Harry covered his mouth. He nodded.

"You'd be surprised at the number of films I've seen," Dumbledore said. "I was

alive when they showed the very first one. And I've loved them ever since."

"What WAS the first movie ever made?"

"L' Arrivée d'un train à la Ciotat," said Dumbledore. "In 1895, by the Lumiere

Brothers."

"I knew Lumiere wasn't just a cartoon character."

"It was footage of a train arriving at its destination, and people actually

screamed and ran out of the theatre. I suppose they thought the train would hit

them. But, getting back to the subject at hand, Harry...you're aware of my

magical capabilities, of course."

"Not all of them," Harry said.

"The mark of an artist," Dumbledore said. "My father was a magician. He

performed at childrens' birthday parties. He taught me everything he knew. Such

as, when you pull a rabbit out of a hat, it's best not to put on the hat." He

blinked. "Pardon me. "There were some tricks I never saw him perform, but I knew

he could do them. Harry, you know I have powers, but you haven't seen

everything. For that matter, neither have I. You know I can become invisible, as

well as see the invisible. Of course, you know what a glamour is."

"Sure," Harry said.

"I can make myself appear as someone else, without Polyjuice Potion."

Harry thought for a moment.

"Have I ever seen you as someone else?"

"Yes, you have. For now, though-"

He ducked under the table, and when he came back up-

"Whoa..."

He no longer looked like the old man Harry had come to know. Now, sitting across

from Harry was a leather-faced man with beady, wild eyes. He looked just like

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from FULL METAL JACKET.

"Bloody brilliant," Harry said.

"You got a warface?" he asked Harry.

"Uh..."

"LEMME SEE YOUR WARFACE!"

Harry made a face. "Rraaaugh."

In a moment, Dumbledore reasserted his true form, long silvery hair and all.

"It works, then."

"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "Dudley's never going to be the same."

A quiet moment passed between them.

"Sir-"

"I'm just attempting to rectify an old man's-"

(YOUR old man's-)

"-mistakes. If I can prevent Dudley from harming you, that'll be a large step

forward, don't you think?"

"He won't ever hurt anyone ever again?"

"Especially not you."

Harry looked at the table. Then he looked up at Dumbledore.

"Can I help?"

"I want you to go on a tear. Play video games. Go see another movie. Listen to

music, take Hedwig to the park...just have as much fun as you possibly can,

Harry. Dudley's one of the reasons you live like a monk. Go celebrate your

youth."

"Well...okay."

He got up from the table.

"Later, sir?"

"MUCH later," Dumbledore said.

Smiling, Harry left.

"Albus, I am NOT coming out like this..."

"Minerva, please-"

She stomped into the kitchen. The leather suit fit her perfectly.

"What bloody kind of school is this again, Albus?"

"Nothing Dudley isn't aware of," Dumbledore said.

"I'm not wearing this. Diana Rigg wouldn't have worn this."

"Fine, fine. He doesn't know what you look like."

"Excuse me," she said. "If you can find a putty knife to help me peel this thing

off-"

"Peeling your clothes off sounds quite…appealing."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'll be back," she said.

"Minerva, wait a moment." She did. "Before I forget-the protective spell you and

Harry laid around the school-"

She looked disappointed. "Must we remove it?"

"Dudley won't be able to enter, otherwise."

"Fine," she said. "Excuse me."

She left the room. If there had been anyone else in the room, Dumbledore

probably wouldn't have gotten up from the table.

Dudley looked at the building in disbelief.

"Oh, bloody hell..."

The words above the doors were bold, authoritarian. 

ST. BRUTUS'S SECURE CENTER FOR INCURABLY CRIMINAL BOYS

Under that:

SPRINGFIELD CHAPTER.

and under that, in smaller print:

DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT RUNNING.

That was the only thing on Dudley's mind.

He turned, and before he could lift his foot-

"DURSLEY!"

Dudley froze.

He knew that voice.

"Where do you think you're going, you tubby little maggot?" 


	56. Uh Oh

56

UH-OH

"At my house, we call them Uh-Ohs!"

-Ralph

"Raaa-aalph," Lou called. He looked over at Eddie, whose face was blank. Eddie never

did show much emotion, not even when the Chief asked them to look after Ralph. Well,

he probably should have suspected something when the Chief handed them a fire

extinguisher. "In case of an Uh-Oh," he said.

Right now, they were both thinking Uh-oh. Not quite the kind that involved the use of a

fire extinguisher, but it was flashing on and off in Lou's head. Uh-oh. Uh-oh. "Where

are ya, Ralph? C'mon out."

"He's not in the kitchen," Eddie said.

"You checked under the sink, right?"

"First place I looked, Lou."

"Where is that kid?"

"Should we get Laddie?"

"Maybe we should," Lou said.

"One of us should stay here," Eddie said.

"Fine. You go get the dog and I'll stay here."

"Great," Eddie said. He ran out the front door.

Lou stood in the middle of the room, listening.


	57. Dark Sarcasm In The Classroom

57.

DARK SARCASM IN THE CLASSROOM

None of these characters belong to me except Chillinger. The rest belong to Matt Groening and J.K. Rowling. No writing news right now, except that TRIP THE LIGHT

HORRIFIC may be going to the printers soon.

"I 'aven't done anythin' resemblin' work since the day I got here," Willy told the guys in

the painting, but they were more interested in eating. Looked like someone had beaten

them to the food, though. All there was was bread and wine.

"When ya run oot of food, don't come cryin' to me."

He noticed the girl behind him.

"Shouldn't ya be in class, lassie?"

"Not for awhile." She looked a bit like one of those little pug dogs, with hair dark as an

awful secret. She smirked at him. "So you're the one from America," she said.

"Willy's the name."

"Pansy," the girl said. "Pansy Parkinson."

"Parkinson, huh? As in Parkinson's Disease?"

She scowled. "No…as in…look, I run things around here."

"Do ya, now? What's with this painting, then?"

"It's a reproduction of 'The Last Supper.'"

Willy looked closer. "Which one of 'em's Jesus?"

"The one in the middle."

"Blast it," Willy said. "So 'e is."

"Excuse me," Parkinson said.

Laughing, they bounded down a stairway, out of sight.

The bell rang sooner than Willy thought it would. Kids came swarming from all different

directions, trudging up and down the stairs. Sometimes, the stairs moved for them.

It had been a long time since he'd seen the wee Simpson lad, and as far as he was

concerned, not nearly long enough.

Of course, who should come bounding down the stairs. "Speak of the Devil," Willy said.

"I'd hardly call Bart a demon," Flitwick said, peeking out from behind the boy.

"That's 'cause ya haven't seen 'im in action," Willy said.

"Come on, Willy," Bart said. "We don't really have time to debate things I may or may

not have done."

"Ya filled m' shack with creamed corn!" Willy said.

"Well, yeah, I did do that-"

"So you really ARE a juvenile delinquent," Flitwick said.

"I tend to get into mischief."

"Don't argue semantics with me, young man."

"Sorry," Bart said.

"Don't worry about it," Flitwick said.

"Where's the bathroom?" Bart asked.

"Oh…well, there's one down that hall."

Bart sprinted down the hall.

"Didja know this is 'The Last Supper'?" Willy asked.

"Oh, yes," Flitwick said. "They're always like that. Hogwarts is alive, you know."

"This whole place-"

"Has a consciousness all its own. Pardon me, I have a class…"

He made his way down the stairs, and in a moment, Willy was alone. He studied the

paintings, watching out for Bart. He came across one-Jacque Louis David's _Cupid and _

_Psyche_, both nude as they could be, and he yelled "BOO-" which caused them to run into

the next portrait, where they sat down at a table and played poker with some very

dangerous characters-

Where was Bart?

"Oh, laddie, ya better not be puttin' cherry bombs in the toilets again."

He started down the hallway, past locked rooms, and doors that might disappear

at any moment, windows that looked upon impossible scenes. More artwork. Disused

classrooms full of empty desks.

"-get his legs."

Willy ducked into the dark, dank room. He saw someone standing in the bathroom. He

tried to get closer, but he would've been seen. There were a number of people standing

over something crumpled on the floor.

Then one of them looked towards Willy.

Chillinger.

Chillinger stepped to the side for a moment.

The one on the floor was Bart.

When Chillinger reappeared, he had someone else in his grip.

"I swear, I haven't told anyone," the kid said.

"Well, Malfoy, I suppose-" Chillinger said.

"-they said, two," the other Chillinger said.

Chillinger slipped a rag over Malfoy's face. His struggled, but not for long.

_Gotta find a weapon-_

Willy searched the room.

"Is it time?" Chillinger asked the other Chillinger at his side.

"It may very well be," said Chillinger.

"You know they'll track the portkey," Chillinger said.

Chillinger shrugged.

"Very well, then," Chillinger said. He took a small box from his pocket.

"Three-"

Willy tensed.

"Two-"

He raised his arms over his head.

One."

Willy screamed and charged into the bathroom; the two Chillingers looked pretty

surprised, especially when he threw the handful of chalk at them. A large chunk hit

the box, right as they were disappearing, and tumbled to the floor after they were gone.

Willy stood over the tiny box.

He bent down.

One of the stalls flew open.

"Don't touch that," Blaise said.


	58. Snake

58.

SNAKE

These characters do not belong to me. They are the property of J.K. Rowling and Matt Groening. Let the rambling commence.

"When in doubt, have two guys come through the door with guns."

-Raymond Chandler

Only one guy came through the door.

He had two guns.

One was a .357 and the other was a .45.

He figured it made .312 worth of difference.

This guy was not one of Springfield's finest citizens. In fact, he was one of its worst.

He looked like a bad man; old Doc Martens, tight jeans, matching jacket torn on a job, a

bulge in his shirt pocket (a pack of cigarettes) and since we're now at his face, let's just

say he wasn't a handsome man. He had hard eyes, and a piggish nose. He wore his hair

slicked back with a variety of greases. Perhaps his most identifying mark was the cobra

tattoo on his left arm. His name was Snake, and he was a dangerous customer. He'd done

it all and done time for it.

Word on the street was something was going down in Crackton, something big and

profitable. He'd been dealing Ecstacy in Crackton on every second Saturday, and hadn't

been caught yet. In his line of work, you had look out for the cops, to the point of

developing second sight.

Closing the refinery had ruined Crackton's economy. It had been built at the edge of

town, a huge, ugly, asymmetrical pit. It reminded him of the steel mills in Cleveland and

Pittsburgh; looking at them felt like a preview of Hell. They had not bulldozed the place;

all they could afford was to let it rot. So, after a walk through the weedy parking lot, he

entered the refinery, which had been cleaned out somewhat. All the windows were

broken, their frames bent and twisted.

The thing was, he could smell raw gasoline, an almost overpowering stench that filled the

space. Then there was the other smell-alcohol. There were bottles of rotgut and beer

bottles all over the place. After a moment of searching, he found a man passed out on the

floor. He wore a dark robe, and with that mane of white-blond hair-

Snake smiled. _Oh, he'd be REAL popular in Springfield State Pen…_

He kicked the blond man. "Dude," he said, kicking him again. "Wake up, dude."

The blond man's eyes fluttered. "Auuuuuughhhh…" he moaned, curling up into a ball of

flesh.

"Hung over, huh?"

"Ugh…" the man said. "What was I drinking?"

He had an English accent.

"Anybody else here?" Snake asked.

As if on cue, another man staggered from around one of the behemoth machines.

"Lucius…"

Snake looked down. "You Lucius?"

Holding his head, the man nodded.

"Goyle, is that you?"

"Oh, it's me," Goyle said. "I can't feel my legs, though…"

_What is this, a bachelor party?_

"We blew it, Goyle," Malfoy said. "Your legs are the least of your worries."

"Blew what?" Snake asked. "What's goin' on here?"

"You know how hard it is to make napalm?" Goyle asked.

"How hard is it?"

"Harder than we thought," Goyle said. "Dunno where we got the tequila."

"Anybody else here?" Snake asked.

Lucius looked at Goyle. Goyle looked back.

"Okay, you guys." Snake said. "Outside."

"I don't-"

Snake fired. The bullet ricocheted off the floor, missing Lucius's head by inches.

"Now," Snake said. He looked at Goyle. "Get him up."

Goyle hoisted Lucius up by the arm.

They staggered outside, Snake ready to shoot either or both of them.

Lucius squeezed his eyes shut. "It's too bright out here," he said.

"Close your eyes," Snake said. "I'll be right back."

He turned; there was a tall, willowy man in the doorway, searching through his robe.

Goyle shouted "Mulciber, no-"

-and Snake fired. Mulciber flew backwards, landed on his back, and did not move again.

Snake disappeared into the building.

"What did we do, Lucius?" Goyle asked.

"We got right plastered, Gregory," Malfoy said. "What are we doing here?"

"Mulciber's dead. So are Dolohov, Macnair, Jugson, and Marais. Avery and Rookwood

are in custody, Brecht has been driven away and his compatriots are nowhere to be found.

Burns is apparently housebound and Snape-well, I don't want to talk about Snape. Am I

forgetting anyone?"

"Well…Wormtail. No one knows where he is. And-ohgod-"

Goyle bent over and vomited.

"Charming," Malfoy said.

Goyle scowled.

"You know, your wife-"

A commotion at the doors caught his attention.

Snake had hit Artie Ziff over the head; actually, he'd given him a roundhouse with the

butt of the .45, across the face, shattering Artie's glasses. But the rest of them were too

drunk to capitalize. Nott, Crabbe, Ziff, that one-armed guy-his name escaped Snake-and

Travers. They stepped over Mulciber's body as if he'd never even been one of them.

"That was Mulciber," Nott said.

Malfoy nodded.

"Let's hear it for good old Mulciber," Crabbe said, and burped.

"On your knees," Snake said. "All of you."

He waved the guns at them.

The men sank to their knees.

Some of them were probably afraid they'd miss the ground.

"Now put your hands over your heads, dudes."

Looking at each other, they did.

"Now, you guys are all hung over, so I'll make this short and sweet. I'm totally taking

over this operation and whatever money and hardware you guys were putting into it."

_All your bases are belong to us…_

"You?"

"Who said that?"

Travers raised his hand.

"Don't do it, Travers, don't-" Ziff said, from the corner of his mouth.

"Matthew Hopkins Travers, and if you kill me, you'll know the wrath of the Knights of

Walpurgis-"

Snake pressed the barrel of the .357 against Travers's head and pulled the trigger.

A moment of stunned silence ensued, after the roar died away.

Snake blew away the smoke rising from the barrel.

"Any questions?"

according to the Harry Potter Lexicon, this was the original name of the Death Eaters.


	59. Lisa And

59.   
LISA AND...

None of these people belong to me, except-well, that would be telling... 

Interviewer: Do you think there will be a Third World War?  
Angus Young: I'm the Third World War.

Lisa entered the house, closing the door behind her.

She noticed the woman on the couch; gray-haired, disheviled, squat but stately. She was watching

JERRY SPRINGER. ("Your Woman Is Really My Man!")

"Um...excuse me-"

The woman looked at Lisa, and smiled.

"You must be Lisa," she said. "Hagrid told me about you. I'm Professsor Sprout, dear."

Lisa nodded, smiling shyly. "That's me," she said. "Ma'am, the door-"

"Oh," Sprout said, "I thought I closed it. Before you ask, yes, I was born in a barn."

"That's okay," she said. "I closed it. I'm just going to the park, and I forgot my book-"

"What are you reading?"

"A biography. Are you familiar with Miles Davis?"

"Oh, dear...I'm not sure...I play music for my plants...I'm the herbology teacher at Hogwarts, you

see. Perhaps I've played Mr. Davis's music for them. Is it upbeat? Can you dance to it?"

"Sure," Lisa said.

Something occurred to her.

"Do you..."

Sprout smiled.

"Yes?" 

"Don't you have a hat?"

"A hat?"

"I wouldn't want to encourage a stereotype, of course."

"Oh, of course. You mean, the one about all witches being covered in pustular warts and turning

little children into toads, all the while wearing a very cunning and witchly hat, is that it?"

"That's the one," Lisa said.

She held up her hat, a jaunty little cone. "Right here," she said. "Comes with a matching broom,

too." 

This time, Lisa laughed.

"Come sit with me awhile," Sprout said. "I miss having children around."

"Well...will you be here later?"

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to house-sit," she said. "I suppose I will. Until then, dear."

"Okay," Lisa said.

She went into the kitchen.

The refrigerator door was open.

Lisa stared at it.

A can of Duff sat on the kitchen table.

Most of it had spilled on the floor.

She stepped over the brown puddle.

She thought about asking Professor Sprout about it.

She couldn't be this absent-minded. Her breath certainly hadn't smelled beerish.

Lisa closed the refrigerator door.

There was a piece of stationary pinioned to the door by a magnet.

It read LISA.

Lisa took it.

She unfolded it.

SUPERMAN 

"Superman?" 

A beer-flavored footprint had been preserved by the back door.

It belonged to somebody with impossibly big feet.

Lisa opened the door.

As she did, the wind picked up, tearing the knob from her hands.

Above her, tree branches swayed in the breeze.

The treehouse creaked.

"Hagrid?" 

It was ridiculous, she knew, but she wondered if Hagrid had ever tried to play hide-and-seek.

She turned away.

_lisa_

She just caught sight of a figure ducking out of the treehouse window.   
_  
__That can't be Hagrid._

-there was no way he'd be able to move around in there-

"Hey," she called. "Come out of there."

Nobody emerged.

"COME OUT OF THERE OR MY DAD-"

A paper airplane took flight from the treehouse window.

It looped, banked, and crash-landed at her feet.

This one also read LISA.

She unfolded it.

OBJECTIVISM 

"Ayn Rand?"

She turned the paper over.

She went back into the kitchen, found a pen, and talked as she wrote: 

"Objectivism...is an attitude...that promotes...rational...selfishness."

She thought a moment.

"Professor Snape," she said.

What would he be doing in the treehouse?

"And what-"

Something occurred to Lisa.

"Not the superhero Superman-"

Nietzsche. 

"Would Snape blend Nietzche and Ayn Rand?"

-even if it wasn't Snape, there was still someone in the stupid treehouse. 

Lisa sat there a moment.

Then, she hopped out of the chair.

She placed the paper in the middle of the table.

She tiptoed out of the kitchen, past Professor Sprout, and-

The front door was open.

"All right, that's it-"

She touched the doorknob.

A hand snaked around the doorframe, closing around her wrist.

Lisa gasped.

From behind the door, a man whispered "You're coming with me now, honey."

"Eat my shorts," Lisa said, and bit down hard on the hand.

On the other side of the door, a man grunted. Then:

"HARDER-" 

Lisa took the stairs two at a time.

She ran into her room and slammed the door.

She backed away from the door.

Lisa thought about hiding under the bed.

"No," she said, "Oh, c'mon, Lisa, think-"

Why couldn't she have hidden in Bart's room?

There were hundreds of potential weapons in there.

She put her hands to her head.

"I'm safe," she said, "I'm perfectly safe in here."

Her room was safe, and neat as it always was.

It was just that her closet door was open.

Lisa didn't know whether to be angry or afraid.

Someone was toying with her, assuming she was as intelligent as an expendable character in one of

those stupid movies, like _The Re-Deadening_ or _Attack Of The Obscene Mimes_. On the other hand,

someone was trying to scare her. In her own home. In her own room. Either way, it was insulting.

It made her so angry.

She gritted her teeth.

"Come and get me," she said.

Then, in one motion, she whirled around, grabbed the doorknob, and twisted it.

She threw herself into the hallway.

Lisa threw the door shut.

She took a step towards the stairs.

Then she froze.

(what if they knew I wouldn't look in the closet?)

Lisa stood there, in the middle of the hallway.

The stairs were a million miles away.

The house seemed so huge.

_I have to get out of here._

Her bedroom door swung, as if the wind blew it open.

A shadow spilled over the floor.

It ascended up the opposite wall.

For a moment, the two of them stood still.

"Who are you?" Lisa asked.

_"Mio nome e non importante,"_ said the shadow. "_Mein name ist sehr wichtig nicht_. My name is not

important. In my situation, I've transcended mere identity."

He stepped into the hallway, a big man with badly mussed head of brownish hair.

"I hate to steal a line from Herman Melville, but...call me Ishmael." 

Lisa backed away.

He reached into his pocket.

please don't pull out a gun or a knife or-

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.

"Can I trouble you for some unguent?"

"What?" 

"For my hand, you little monster."

Lisa backed towards the stairs.

"You're not going to get away," he said. "We have your brother. Bart, I believe?"

"Who are you?"

He put a hand to his forehead.

"Where are my manners? Professor Ishmael Ch-"

His eyes bulged.

"Ishmael Ch-"

His knees gave out.

"I used to be one person," he said. "I was supposed to kill-who was I supposed to kill? I'm certain

it wasn't you, you don't-"

Lisa grabbed him by the collar. "WHERE'S MY BROTHER?" 

"I...can't feel them. Oh my God."

Lisa let go.

They stared each other down.

"I'm going to get Professor Sprout, and we're going to call the police." 

"Right," he said, "That was Sprout downstairs, was it?"

Lisa blinked, his question sinking in.

"Don't run," he said.

Lisa turned and ran down the stairs.

She tripped on the very last step, bringing her eye to eye with the underside of the front door.

A shadow slid under the doorframe.

Lisa gasped.

She scrambled to her feet, and lurched into the living room.

"Professor Spr-"

Professor Sprout had spilled onto the floor. A pool of blood crept away from her head, matting her

hair into the carpet.

"Oh, Professor, I'm sor-"

Her feet left the ground.

He pulled her into his rough grasp, and pressed a strange-smelling cloth against her face.

She screamed into his palm.

Then she bit him again.

She sank her teeth into his finger, through the cloth.

Chillinger felt his eyes bulge, and then he screamed right along with her. 

Someone began banging on the front door.

"Hey-hey, is everything ding-dang-doodley-do-right in there?"

He dropped her to the floor.

Lisa took a step towards the front door.

Her legs felt rubbery.

"Mr. Flanders-"

She could barely speak.

"I'm going to hurt you now, honey," Chillinger said, through gritted teeth. "You and him."

He never got the chance, because Lisa crumpled to the floor.

He scooped Lisa from the floor, into his arms.

"Like shooting fish in a bloody barrel," he said.

He took a hard look at the front door.

This chapter was originally called LISA AND THE DEVIL, but there's already a movie by that name. Check it out if you can find it. Telly Savalas plays Satan.


End file.
